by H. C. Brown
"As you wish." Lailii smiled sweetly. "Stay safe, life mates." Lailii moved forward with unnerving confidence. As she entered the valley, sunbeams bathed her long, platinum hair, giving her an ethereal beauty. Gods, she looked so small and vulnerable atop her huge, white stallion. The boy's clothes did little to disguise her femininity. Dallin motioned for Stryker and Cruz to follow him and took his position with his men. He waited, heart thumping loudly. His fingers ached from gripping the reins. The only sounds in the valley were the clinks of horses' tackle, the chatter of birds, and the rush of water from the fast-flowing river. His gaze never left Lailii's progress. His courageous mate rode, head erect and eyes front, with one hand gripping Argos's mane.
"There at the mouth of the pass, can you see him?" Stryker leaned toward Dallin.
"He's running back to the Butcher."
Dallin signaled to his men to draw their weapons. The air filled with the tension of impending battle; the troops' faces formed a sea of grim masks. In the valley, Lailii lifted her small arms. Immediately, a cold breeze blasted Dallin's face. Gods, he could hear her begin to chant as if she were sitting beside him.
"Can you hear that?" Stryker whispered.
With a nod to his friend, Dallin listened intently. The sky began to darken. Purple clouds appeared and turned into a swirling, black mass.
"Dear Lady, heed my words. Bring down your wrath on the unworthy." The wind whipped around Lailii, tangling her hair into writhing, silver snakes. She gazed into the heavens. "Give me the power to flush out the villains that would harm my Pride. Protect my mates, the ones chosen to lead the fight against evil. Rise up the river at my command, as so I say, so mote it be."
Lightning flashed, jagged, blue-white spears hitting the rocks beyond the pass in ear-splitting cracks. The Army of Lost Souls spilled into the passage, riding hard. A sound like a hurricane roared through the valley. Dallin glanced toward his men. The troops' horses nickered and shifted restlessly, but not one man moved out of position. In the distance, between the mountains, a funnel of water rose up high in the air. Dallin held his breath. The screaming waterspout fell to the ground the second Lailii dropped her arms. Silver hair flying in the wind, the Spellweaver turned Argos toward the rise. Lailii flattened her small body against the horse's neck and galloped flat out across the valley floor and up the rise. Argos tossed his proud head and stumbled up the sharp incline, finally reaching the top. As Lailii disappeared behind a wall of troops in a cloud of white dust, Dallin let out his breath.
Screams from the Butcher's men and the thunder of panicked horses echoed from the passage. The Butcher of Anwyn, gnarled hand held high in the air, led his men into the open, his standard-bearer close on his heels. The roar of water soon muffled the screams from the Army of Lost Souls. Dallin watched in awe. A wall of water spewed
from the crevice, hurling man and horse into the valley. Then with a mighty crash, a massive wave broke over the mountain, tossing the Butcher's legion like boats in a storm. The wave dissipated immediately, leaving man and horse staggering to find foot. Dallin lifted his arm. "Charge!"
Stryker urged his horse forward. The magnificent stallion moved under him smoothly, taking the uneven ground in its stride. Dallin's troops split into two. Cruz took one half to cut off the retreating Army of Lost Souls before they reached the pass. The battle raged for hours; the valley ran red with blood. The air filled with the stench of blood and piss. The valley echoed the screams of the dying. The Butcher's men attacked with short swords but never alone, always two or three surrounded each man. The zaps were efficient, but Stryker's muscles cramped from punching with one hand and using his zap with the other. His body ached from the mutant's sword blows, but it would take a diamond-tipped sword to pierce the golden suit. Thank the Lady for the warhorse. The incredible beast knew which way to step to keep him seated. When all seemed lost, Glory would rear up and trample the enemy into the ground. After dispatching another mutant, Stryker whirled his horse around to see the Butcher and four men surround Dallin. He kicked his horse forward to join the fight. A man wearing a black leather helm blocked his path. The stranger appeared, as if from thin air. Stryker looked into two empty eye sockets, and his heart pounded.
"You cannot win. Thy Lady will forfeit any battle to save your prince." The man laughed. "My master will come for your Spellweaver; there is no escape." Stryker waved his zap at the man. "You got that wrong." The man dissolved in a cloud of flies and vanished. Stryker shook his head and rode toward Dallin. The prince had decapitated four of the Butcher's men. The Butcher grinned weakly. The man's third eye was missing; black liquid spewed from a gaping hole in his chest. Dallin, face streaked with blood, raised his zap for the deathblow.
"The gate is open, and the lord of darkness has come to lead his children home." The Butcher lifted his chin. "My gift of the Spellweaver has been accepted by Lord Passio."
With a grimace, Dallin moved closer. "She belongs to us, given as life mate by the Lady. Damn you to hell." He lifted his zap and decapitated the Butcher in one pass. The Butcher's head fell to the ground and rolled under the feet of the battling horses. His body slid to the dirt with a sickening thud. Dallin glanced around the battlefield. The remaining mutants in the Army of Lost Souls crumbled to dust. He put away his weapon and scanned the ridge. Lailii, standing like a welcome beacon in the sunlight, raised her hand in greeting. Dallin swallowed hard. "Gods, she is so beautiful."
"Don't forget talented . . . and she belongs to us." Stryker slapped Dallin on the back.
With a laugh, Dallin met Stryker's gaze. "I'm not going to forget that in a hurry. Gods, I'm falling in love with her."
"So am I." Stryker rubbed the back of his neck. "It's kinda scary, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
* * * * *
Lailii remained on the rise and gazed down on the sea of death. The mutants'
bodies had turned to dust the moment Dallin dispatched the Butcher. However, the stench of battle remained. The troops moved to the river and stripped off their bloodsoaked armor. Each one performed a spell to clean his soiled garments before diving into the water. There were few injuries, and not one of Dallin's men had died in the fight. She had watched, amazed at the magyck conjured by the Pride males. The zaps aside, she had witnessed the men produce spinning fireballs and others jumping from place to place to avoid attack. Lailii knew such magyck existed, but in her time, only a Mage could perform such amazing feats.
An hour later, she followed the troops deep into the forest to rest and eat. Dallin dropped his saddlebags, spread a blanket on the forest floor, and fell onto it. Lailii frowned at him and offered him the wine skin. "You look exhausted."
"You think?" Dallin covered his eyes with his arm.
"We're all done in, sweetheart." Stryker sat down and handed Dallin a package of sandwiches. "We're not used to fighting mutants."
"I would have to say that was the worst battle I've ever experienced." Dallin sat up slowly and unwrapped his lunch. "There were so many of them; they just kept on coming." He broke off a portion of a meat sandwich and held it to Lailii's mouth. "It was the shadows that fazed me." Dallin pulled a face. "The twin suns make the shadows deceiving; half the time I thought someone was behind me, and it was my second shadow. It was creepy." He shrugged. "We have two moons, so I'm used to the unusual shadows at night, but during a battle in daytime it's surreal." Lailii opened her mouth for the food and chewed slowly. This custom of feeding her was ridiculous. Her men were exhausted. It's pointless to argue. She swallowed and glanced at Dallin. "I am surprised your magyck remained so powerful for the entire battle."
"We don't lose power." Dallin yawned and continued to feed her. "Our powers are from the Fae."
"I understand you are different to us." Striker held the wine skin to Lailii's lips.
"Your powers are drawn from nature."
The cool, sweet Miza slid down Lailii's throat. She sighed. "Yes, from nature and from love. I am intrigued. How did cats get Fae powe
rs?"
"The Fae and Prides are allies and have been for about two thousand years. It's not unusual for a Pride to find his life mate among the Fae." Stryker passed the wine skin to Dallin. "My grandmother is Fae. Our bloods have mixed for many years and with that came the Fae magyck. The Vane was the first Pride to obtain the complete Fae talents. Now, all Pride—both male and female—have one special talent plus a variety of useful magyck."
Lailii smiled. To have an inexhaustible supply of magyck would be bliss. "I wish that were the case for me. I can sustain a spell for about an hour."
"I have a feeling that might change." Dallin offered Lailii another morsel of food.
"The transformation is complete when you produce a cub. There have been Humans changed into Pride, and they have inherited magyck from their cat."
"You need not be concerned about your merging, sweetheart." Stryker touched Lailii's face and smiled. "At first, it seems unusual, but we all manage to live with our cats in perfect harmony."
Lailii swallowed and looked from one to the other. How could they possibly know what it was like without a cat inside their heads? "You don't know how I feel without a cat, so how can you possibly make that judgment?"
"We aren't born with our cats—well, we are, but they don't emerge until we mature." Dallin grinned. "Can you imagine a child changing into a cat? Hell, it would make the terrible two-year-old cub a force to be reckoned with, don't you think?"
"It is strange, at first." Stryker leaned his back against a tree and crossed his feet at the ankles. "The cat does what it is told. If you tell it to shut up, it remains silent. The only not so good part is the hunting." He met Lailii's gaze. "Then they take over completely; we just go along for the ride. They overrule any feeling of disgust we may have, of killing and devouring. It becomes as natural as eating a piece of fruit." With a shrug, Lailii reached for the wine skin. At least they let her drink on her own. "It will be some time before I have a cub."
"Not necessarily." Dallin took her hand. "You could carry our cub already. A Pride female delivers in nine weeks."
Lailii opened her mouth to protest. One look at Dallin's intent gaze and she knew this was not a joke. "Nine weeks—that would mean I could have a cub four times a year. Dear Lady."
"No, our females only conceive once every two years." Dallin squeezed her hands. "You have nothing to fear, little one, I promise." She snorted. "That's the exact reaction I would have expected from a man."
"Pride females suffer no pain in childbirth." Stryker stroked Lailii's hair. "We will help you care for our cub. In fact, you may find us too attentive."
"We will see." She met Dallin's gaze. "When do we leave for the future? Methinks I will find this a very strange adventure."
"The Gate is on the other side of the mountain, beside an ancient oak tree." Dallin sighed. "It will be very different for you. I am sure you will adjust nicely. The castle is very old, more like this time. If my father had his way, Vane Castle would remain authentic, but we do have modern technology. You will soon get used to our ways." He smiled. "I'll let my troops rest for an hour, and then we'll leave. As you mentioned, we may run into bandits. I need my men ready to fight."
An hour later, Dallin led the troops down into the valley and through the mountain pass. He glanced at Lailii; a spot of dirt marked her cheek. She would require a bath and clean clothes before he presented her to his father. He scratched his chin. The shops in the village below Vane Castle would have to do. There would be time later to buy her something better to wear.
They approached the old oak tree. In a whoosh of wind, a portal formed. Nothing like the usual expanse of shimmering silver of the travel Gates, the Lady's Gate swirled in a blue mist. Cruz gave him a broad smile and waved him through. Dallin knew his brother would wait until the last man had passed through in safety. Dallin waited and watched his men file through the other side of the gate. They all whooped their relief to be on home soil again. He waved them toward the castle. Cruz appeared, grinning like a baboon, and the Gate closed behind him. Dallin led the way to the stable. He turned to Stryker. "We have to buy clothes for Lailii. We'll have to go into town before we take her to meet my father."
"Then we'll go now. How long can it take to buy a few dresses?" Twenty minutes later, his patience at an end, Dallin turned Lailii to face him. "A flybike is like a horse. It is something you must accept. It's our main form of transport."
"People are not supposed to fly." Lailii balled her fists on her hips. "We should go by horse."
"The people will think we're crazy." Stryker snorted and looked away. "If you're going to be difficult over a flybike, you'll never fit into our world." Dallin stroked her hair. His mate trembled under his touch. He met her clear, silver gaze. "You will love flying, little one. Trust me." He mounted his black, shiny flybike and patted the smooth leather seat behind him.
"Do I have any choice?" Lailii bit her bottom lip.
"Yes." Stryker swung his leg over a flybike. "Which one of us do you want to ride with?"
"You're a hard man." Lailii glowered at Stryker. "I choose to ride with Dallin."
"Ah huh." Stryker grinned. "I don't remember you complaining last night." Lailii tossed her long hair over her shoulders and climbed gingerly behind Dallin. Her small arms closed around his waist like a vise; her nose dug into his back between his shoulders. He laughed. "You're safe with me. Just think about all the nice clothes I'm going to buy you. Girls love shopping, don't they?"
"Girls love to go shopping on horseback." Lailii complained. "Not flying about on this devil's magyck. Gods, Dallin, how can it remain upright with only two wheels?" Dallin zapped the engine, and the flybike rose silently into the air. He flew slowly to allow Lailii to adjust to the sensation. She gripped him so tightly he thought his brains might pop out the top of his head. He turned to grin at Stryker. The man pointed to Lailii and squeezed his eyes shut. Dallin ran a hand down Lailii's thigh.
"Don't be afraid. Look ahead not straight down. It is like being on top of a mountain."
Lailii opened her eyes. Her stomach dropped. They were descending into a town. Flybikes moved in all directions like dragonflies above a pond. The houses resembled boxes, each made from strange, red stones, all the same exact size, and many had a front with a great expanse of glass reflecting the sunlight. The flybike drifted into a small area and fit snugly into a line of similar contraptions. Stryker dismounted, and then walked
toward her and bent his handsome face close to hers. She met his gaze, her heart pounding. What else did they think to expose her to this day?
"You can let go now." Stryker laughed. "Poor Dallin is red in the face. I hope you haven't broken his ribs." He grabbed Lailii's waist and lifted her from the flybike. Knees like jelly, Lailii gripped Stryker's arm. "I am a little shaken."
"You'll be fine." Dallin tipped his head to the right. "The shops are just across the road. When we get there, I'll ask someone to help you. In our time, it's easy to buy stuff when you know what size you are."
Lailii slipped her hands through her mate's arms, and they walked across the road. She caught her breath. Great, silver, egg-shaped things moved about the sky or slid to a halt along the roadside. The side would open with a hiss like an angry snake, and people would step out onto the road. She raised her head to look into the sky. Only one sun graced the heavens, and yet in the east, she could see the shapes of two ghostly moons.
The buildings were many and reached high into the clouds. They displayed a wide range of goods for sale, all protected behind a wall of windows. She followed Dallin through a glass door that opened at their approach, and then closed behind them. Inside, an abundance of fragrances filled the air. Clothes were displayed on statues of females. How strange. The people inside the shop drew back to let them pass and bowed low at the sight of their prince.
Dallin straightened his broad shoulders and spoke quietly to a pair of women. He turned and drew Lailii forward. His warm breath brushed her cheek. "Go with these fem
ales, and they will help you select some clothes. Remember your size. I will be taking you shopping again soon." He touched Lailii's hair. "They will take you to a special place, called a beauty parlor, and get you ready to be presented to the king.
"Spare no expense. I want her dressed as my princess. Make sure you have everything she needs delivered to the castle this afternoon, and I mean everything—
hairbrushes, soap, shoes—whatever a female needs to be happy." Dallin's lips curled into a smile. "Call me when she is ready to leave; we'll wait in the Cat's Whiskers."
Lailii panicked. She grasped Dallin's arm. "You don't expect to leave me here alone, do you? What if Passio is close by?"
"That was a long time ago." Stryker laid a hand on Lailii's shoulder. "I think you will be safe here."
"We will do a little shopping, take a massage, and wait for you across the road in the tavern." Dallin pushed Lailii toward the waiting women. "Go and enjoy." Go and enjoy? The men had lost their minds. She followed the females through rows of glass cabinets and areas filled with clothes hanging from silver bars. They went through more glass doors and finally into a small room with a female dressed in a white dress.
"This is Kate, my lady. She will get you out of those clothes and take you to the spa. When you are finished there, she will see to your hair and nails." One of the females gave her a broad smile. "We will collect a selection of clothes for you to choose from." She took a long ribbon marked with numbers from her pocket. "First, if you will allow me to take your measurements."
Three hours later, Lailii stroked down her pale blue silk gown and turned to gaze at her reflection in the long mirror. The dress, one of two dozen, reflected in her eyes. A split up both sides to the thigh showed an expanse of golden skin. Silver sandals, as soft as a dove's wing, encased her feet in tiny straps. Her nails shone with a coat of foulsmelling polish, and her hair hung down her back like a sheet of silk. A massive collection of clothes, shoes, and toiletries, piled high in boxes, sat by the door for delivery. She had delicate nightdresses of every hue and as thin as cobwebs. Her face grew hot at the thought of wearing such revealing attire, but the females had insisted her mates would love them.
