The food was also better than expected. Prepared to see gruel or watered down bread mush, he was surprised when a large plate of hot vegetables was passed through his bars twice a day. He didn't say anything to his jailors and they seemed happy that he didn't want to talk.
That all changed on the first day of winter when the guards were cycled out for a new unit. Thick blankets were handed out to the various prisoners, all locals except for himself, and the new set of uniformed guards started to run the place with more resources.
Ryan looked up from his cot when he heard the loud bang on his bars, a guard's way of getting a prisoner's attention. The fellow on the other side peered at him with curiosity, cocked the helmeted head to one side as dark green eyes regarded him. "Is there a problem?" he asked the new guard.
"No," was the reply, and Ryan almost stood up in total surprise. That accented voice was too high pitched to be male. Knowing the question in his eyes, she took off her dark metal helmet and a cascade of light blue hair flowed down around her shoulders. Now he did stand and she took a fast step back. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Why do you seem surprised?" she asked.
"Your hair is the same color as my wife's," he explained softly. "I didn't expect that."
"Do you know who I am?" she stated, as if he should have known all along.
"I have no idea who you are," Ryan replied politely. He knew he was being regarded closely, perhaps a little too closely by this female guard. He knew the Elerians wouldn't approve of women using armor or swords, but these people had no social hang ups along those lines. "Though you are the first of my jailors to talk to me in the time I've been here."
"Yorg'Zax is my older brother," she stated without emotion. "The captain of a certain fort you snuck into and beat the living daylights out of while searching for your wife."
"I'm not sorry I did that," Ryan confessed, baritone level and remaining polite. "If it was your brother who got kidnapped and I knew where he was, you might have done the same if the opportunity presented itself."
"Fair enough," she replied, her light musical accent still neutral. "Even though he couldn't sleep for days, I'm just grateful you didn't kill him."
"Would you mind backing up a few steps?" Ryan asked, as courteous as if he was a host and she was an honored guest.
"Why?"
"The closest torch is behind you," he replied kindly. "It puts your face mostly in shadow. I would like to see you as we talk."
She stepped back as requested and the light revealed her delicate yet strong features. High cheekbones, heart shaped jawline and a cleft chin gave her a striking charm he liked right away. He nodded and her expression clouded into an unvoiced question, which he answered.
"I see the family resemblance now," he stated calmly. "Did your brother lose his job over what happened?"
"No," she said, then gave him a lopsided smile. "Though I find it interesting you asked. I think Queen Darya was too infuriated with your refusal to bed her to consider the failings of some minor underling. There are high ranking noblemen who died trying to woo her, and there you are, telling her no. Why didn't you just do it?"
"Several reasons," he shot back quickly, then hesitating a moment so he could keep his voice respectful. "I don't love her. I never will. I happen to love and respect my wife. The queen is..."
"She's beautiful way beyond normal standards," she said, cutting him off as if that should explain everything.
"On the outside," Ryan softly responded. "On the inside she's ugly as hell. When was the last time Darya ever heard the word no? She's too used to getting her wants serviced. I won't be used that way."
She considered his words, inhaled deeply and let it out slowly through her nose and didn't share her thoughts as she regarded him again, this time with something more normal than cold contempt. She also chose that moment to change the subject. "Do you need anything? More water? Extra blankets? Food?"
"I'm fine with what I get," he replied, then smiled at her. She didn't return it, but she didn't frown either. "And I wouldn't want you getting into trouble by giving me extra stuff."
"No trouble," she said. Then a light smile did reach her lips but only for a moment. "I can do whatever I want in my jail. I'm the warden. You may call me Nera." Then without waiting for a response, she turned with military precision and walked away.
As distant guards stiffened to attention when she passed them down the prison hall and went out of sight, Ryan found himself saying out loud, "Nice to meet you, Warden Nera."
Chapter Nineteen - Revenge
The next visitor came two days later and was escorted by two palace guards. They seemed easy and unconcerned with the richly dressed figure who approached Ryan's cell door. The large man stiffened with rage and recognition when the voice of Avrohom reached his ears.
"The monster is caged as it deserves," Avrohom said, relishing every single word that flowed out of his sneering mouth. "The too tall bitch is out of sight perhaps for good, and Ocaza is in a tizzy gathering all the men they can throughout winter. My my, what has the world come to, hmm?"
Ryan slowly approached the bars so as not to spook the guards back. He didn't think they would panic with bars between them, Ryan wanted them as close as possible. For the moment his focus was on his enemy. "So you're the spy, and a traitor as well to your own king."
Avrohom's nostrils flared with anger but he kept his voice happily sarcastic. "I forgot how smart this beast is. Too smart." To the palace guard on his right, "When is this thing due for execution? I wish to be there."
"That is yet to be determined by Queen Darya," the palace guard replied crisply, obviously not pleased with having to answer to the Elerian.
"You were a fool to come here and gloat," Ryan growled to him, his large hands gripped the bars and squeezed as if they were the traitor's throat. "Did you know the queen promised me anything I wanted if I got her pregnant? Now I know who you really are, your head nailed to the front gate of the castle might be part of the price I ask for. As you stand before me and wag that pathetic tongue of yours, Darya is looking more attractive by the second."
"Is that an official request?" The palace guard on the left asked the large prisoner, eager to please his queen.
"I'm too important to her for such a deal to stick," Avrohom scolded Ryan, loosing his demeanor. It bothered the palace guards to have to protect and escort the enemy traitor and they enjoyed seeing the reaction of anger maybe a little too much. It took their attention off of Ryan long enough for him to put his little plan into action. Avrohom continued his tirade. "What women see in you, I'll never know. You're an abomination, a walking thing that needs to be cleansed from this world! When you die, I'll be there laughing as you spit up the last of your life's blood!"
With fake ferocity and with a calculating eye on the closest palace guard, he quickly reached out between the bars to grab Avrohom. The little man was close but not close enough. Ryan knew this already, he was banking on the reaction of his escorts and they didn't disappoint him. Charged with protecting the traitor, both soldiers jumped forward and grabbed Ryan's large arm and struggled to force it back.
Ryan only put up enough resistance to give them something to battle. It also showed him they were highly inexperienced jailors. As they pushed his right arm back behind the bars with grunting effort, his left hand neatly filched the closest guard's long dagger from his sword belt. Avrohom skipped back as expected, a momentary look of fright replacing his anger. The big man ceased his fake struggle and stepped back. The suckered guards gratefully let him go. Ryan kept the long dagger behind his left thigh and out of sight. His fingers deftly turned it a few times while hidden, feeling its weight and balance with familiar precision. Another skill leaked through the black barrier of amnesia and guided his hand with the ease of a seasoned professional. This new option would also disarm him and put future visits at a level where this wouldn't be possible again, but the trade-off was worth it to him.
The palace guards took up their positions on each side of Avrohom who decided to leave without any further taunting. He took three, now four steps away. Perfect. For the first time since his imprisonment, Ryan opened up his lungs and shouted from the pit of his stomach.
"Turn and face me, traitor!" That deep voice boomed down the dungeon hall like thunder, rattling every guard in earshot into a startled combat stance. With an expert snap of his wrist, the long bladed dagger flew like a bat out of hell from between the bars.
Avrohom had pivoted in anger with his mouth open to snap a nasty reply but it never got said. The blade zipped in just under his chin and the hilt hugged his throat apple with a wet thwack. Gargling his own blood and sinking to his knees, Avrohom heard Ryan laughing at him. His last darkening thought was filled with twisted irony. How dare that big bastard turn my own omen against me!
Shocked and dismayed, the palace guards shouted out orders as they dragged Avrohom's corpse away as fast as possible. Four regular prison guards formed a shoulder to shoulder line and leveled spears at Ryan's cell in the distance. They were blocking off access to anybody else he might have a hidden weapon for. They may be inexperienced jailors, but far from stupid.
They stood there like that for hours. Then a squad of soldiers with manacles and leg irons approached the cell, all armed to the teeth and intending to transport him somewhere one way or the other. With ten heavily armed men primed to kill him at the slightest wrong move, Ryan let them open his cell and shackle his wrists and ankles without resistance. A few moments after they tested the thick chains, they prodded him in the direction they wanted to go.
Chapter Twenty - Frustration
Large stained glass windows created huge shafts of multicolored light all through the large throne room. While it wasn't the brightness of summer, the pale luminescence of winter gave the colors a ghostly quality. The splendor of artwork on the far walls and tables with richly adorned chairs were all focused into bringing attention to the most important place in the room, the gold gilded throne and the queen who sat upon it. Elevated higher off the ground than everything else to show her position and prestige, she tapped her fingers on the arm of the throne in silent contemplation of the current situation.
Darya wore a dark blue dress with golden thread, the tiara sparkled with various gems and sat in her blue streaked auburn hair as if it was designed by nature itself for the highly beautiful woman beneath it. Her expression and cold attitude robbed the display of any true royal splendor as did the huge man in shackles who stood before her, a small army of armed soldiers making sure he didn't make anymore violent moves.
"You killed one of my spies," Darya commented, as if remarking on the day's weather. "Elerians are defenders and sometimes boring pacifists, not cold blooded killers. What say you?"
"As you noticed when we first met, I'm no Elerian," Ryan responded just as casually, feeling for the first time as if he could finally open up the channels to a forming opportunity. He had to cater to her now, get on her good side without giving in to her primary demands. He knew she didn't give a crap about her spy, but now he could play it by ear and make her think they were on the same level to some degree. "Avrohom was my enemy before I met you, the opportunity presented itself to rid the world of a traitor. Tell me honestly, my queen, could you have done any less to one of your subjects the moment you learned they turned against you?"
"An excellent point," she conceded, her lovely dark eyes flaring with pleasure at hearing him refer to her as my queen. Then she gestured and two more men in shackles were brought into the throne room. Without the armor and stripped to their underclothes, it took Ryan a moment to recognize the two palace guards who had escorted Avrohom. "What about their failure, Lord Za'Ryan? What would those of House Ven'Krue do with guards who let their charge get killed?"
Ryan regarded the two hapless men and their faces were lowered in shame. His wits seized upon the moment and formed his words without delay. "Considering the scum they escorted, an ass and proved traitor regardless of whom he served, I would have given them a raise in pay and a fancy title. Avrohom wasn't worth the water to wash his filth away in, and I'd be glad to have men who knew the value of such things. Intelligent guards. Who would have seen that coming?"
A genuine look of surprise crossed Darya's features and she started to laugh. The genuine humor she felt brought a moment of humanity to her features, as if she enjoyed a pleasant joke. For that brief moment her natural beauty magnified ten fold and Ryan internally felt a swelling of pity for this woman before him. If her soul had been normal, if her heart wouldn't have been so laced with evil, she could have seduced him. It would have taken effort of course, he had a wife he truly didn't want to betray. The moment passed and the humor leeched out of her expression as she regarded the shackled guards.
"Fine," Darya concluded with dark authority. "Unshackle those two and have them approach the throne."
As they were released from their irons, both men looked at Ryan with something close to respect. Without hesitating the moment they were free, they went to one knee at the foot of the throne side by side. Queen Darya rose and stood on the top of the three short steps that led to the gold gilded seat and its comfortable cushion. She spread her arms, palms up as she made her announcement. "For your excellent service to the kingdom as intelligent palace guards, you have both earned the title of Traitor Slayer from this day forward. Arise Zon'Jal and Merd'Fen and delight in double pay while in my service."
They rose and stood, awestruck as she walked down two steps. She was a head taller than they were at that level and she leaned forward and placed her lips on each of their foreheads. Status returned and given the unexpected high honor of her royal kiss, they both snapped to attention. Darya nodded to them in dismissal and flashed a gorgeous smile. With sharp precision they turned and left the throne room. Then her attention settled on Ryan, lovely cold dark eyes now unreadable.
"Has your queen pleased you?" she asked sweetly.
"That she has," he responded with grudging respect. Good, he thought, she isn't letting that slide just like I wanted.
"Has your queen pleased you enough to grant her what she wishes from you?" Her tone was now sultry, those lovely eyes focused on him with unhidden desire. Any lesser man would have caved in right there and then. Careful, his thoughts warned him, say this wrong or slip up just a little and your wife and unborn child are as dead as you are.
"You have delivered my enemy to his death by my hand," he told her in a formal tone of voice. "You have also showed honor in properly rewarding those two men," he continued. "You are worthy to bear my child." Darya's face lit up and she opened her mouth to say something cheerful but he cut her off quickly. "But you have not earned my love for such a thing to happen. Understand, with my people," he lied, "I must love a woman as much as I respect her to give of my essence." He felt that was true to a degree, but it wasn't necessarily a requirement. With his amnesia he was never one hundred percent sure, but it felt like a long stretch of the truth. If he didn't know for sure, he knew for a fact she would be totally clueless. She would either trust him or not on his word alone, which would be the fine line between success in his manipulation attempt or a tragic death.
Darya's sharp face clouded over, mixed thoughts chasing themselves through her mind. She reflected carefully on his words, then went and sat back on the throne with dejected quickness. At first he thought he went too far and pushed the wrong mental buttons, but she clarified to his relief that he didn't get himself or anyone else he cared for killed.
"You're a frustrating man," Darya accused Ryan with the bold royal tone of doing business. "First you impress the hell out of me by sneaking into my kingdom and finding your way into my breakfast garden. That couldn't have been an easy feat for one of your size. You earned my respect for that. Then I offer myself to you, something dozens of nobles have died trying to get for themselves for years. Your hesitation and refusal angered me quite a bit." Ryan went to
speak, she held up her hand to silence him. "Shut up. Keep your lips sealed if you know what's good for you." He nodded and listened to the rest of her rant.
"So instead of killing you, hoping your senses would clear up, I put you in my dungeon to think about it. What do I get for my troubles? A dead spy." She drummed her fingers a moment on the throne's large arm rest again. Her eyes flared then settled down. "Your wisdom impressed me on this subject. I agree with you on Avrohom's disgusting existence. Once a traitor always a traitor, I would have had to kill him anyways in the future. Then you made me laugh. I haven't had a good laugh in a long time, but your view of my palace guards was one I never expected. So I did as you asked to prove your requests do have value with me. Now I have to earn your love to bear an heir through you? How does a woman do such a thing with a large confusing handsome man like yourself? What say you now, Lord Za'Ryan?"
Given permission to speak at last, he picked up his shackled wrists and rattled the chains, then packed his deep voice with as much regret as he could stomach. "This is certainly not the way to start, my queen."
She locked eyes with him but it wasn't a contest of wills. She was trying to read him, to see how much deceit he was putting into his words. He summoned all the compassion he could by thinking of his beautiful Myra and his child and let that flow through his light blue eyes. He knew Darya would never know the true source of those feelings, she was incapable of understanding such things.
In her mind, he was being as honest as he could for his freedom and continued existence with his Elerian bitch. His large eyes were like the summer sky and the warmth they projected was moving her feelings down a path they never went before. She internally shook it off and decided he wasn't lying after all. He was a good doer like all Elerian weaklings, but had his own code that was alien to everyone. She could respect that. Such a strength of body as well as spirit powerfully motivated her to ensure this quality would pass on to her own child, but shaped and molded through a solid upbringing so the weaknesses of compassion were well weeded out.
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