Her Father's Fugitive Throne

by Brandon Barr

  The clicking of stones sounded not far away. Sparks lit. Then a flame. Terling knelt by his bag and held out a candle. The room was small and barren, one of the countless storage pens throughout the hold.

  She stood and went to the metal door and banged upon it. She promised the soldiers outside pardon if they would free her. When nothing came of it, she slumped against the rock wall and dropped to the floor.

  Sadness accompanied the anger she felt. She had come so far and accomplished so much. Was it all to fail here, now?

  Her fingers slid to her sword hilt and she found strength in the power given her by the Maker. If she had the chance, if she could draw Valcere into a challenge of swords—?

  Her fiery blood raged within her.

  The choice felt easy…be invulnerable to weaponry until death, or—

  Kill Valcere.

  PRASEME

  Praseme collapsed beside Mica on the bed, her bare breasts heaving from rapturous exertion. When she caught her breath, she rolled over against him, breathing out short, satisfied sighs, and placed her hand on his chest.

  His heart was pounding like hers.

  To Praseme’s joy, she had found Mica at home in their quarters when she first arrived. He had wanted to know what happened to her bandaged hand, and she had wanted to say so much to him about the journey, but much of it was serious, and her mood was not for it then…not until she made love to him.

  But now, lying beside him, content, she was ready.

  “Our journey was a success in many ways,” she said. “The treaty was signed by King Feaor.”

  He turned over and, in the candlelight, she saw his eyes were full of surprise. “I can hardly believe it. What changed from before?”

  “Meluscia promised Feaor that once she took the throne, there would be a new treaty. As part of her company, I’m sworn to secrecy.”

  “It seems you’ve broken your promise,” said Mica. She could hear the grin on his face and glanced over with a smirk.

  “You loosened my lips with your skills,” she said, and ran her fingers over him.

  They lay their quiet for a time, Praseme lost in the many memories she had acquired in her travels. Finally, she rolled over and pinched out the candle.

  Beside her, Mica’s breathing grew uneasy, as it always did when he was conflicted about something. She waited for him to speak what she suspected.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” said Mica. “It happened the day before you left for the Verdlands. I should have told you then, but it was the night the Nightmare broke into the king’s back paddock. And besides that, I was left disheartened by it.”

  “I know what you speak of,” said Praseme.

  “Meluscia? She told you?”

  “She confessed to me,” said Praseme. “That she tried to seduce you.”

  Mica was quiet for a moment. Praseme would have liked to see the look he wore.

  “How did you respond?” asked Mica.

  Praseme laughed. “Next time you see her, take a look at her face.”

  The bed shook as he moved and grabbed her arm. “Her face? You struck her?!”

  “It was a good hit. My knuckles ached a long time after.”

  “Praseme!” said Mica, his voice filled with concern. “What did Meluscia do?”

  Praseme sighed. “She took the strike nobly. She continued to ask my forgiveness. Eventually, I gave it to her and more. We have become good friends.”

  “Good friends?” said Mica, his tone incredulous. Then he laughed and kissed her cheek. “You strike the face of the most powerful person in the realm and then make friends with the woman?” He laughed again, “That tells me two things: one, Meluscia is still the good leader we always believed her to be and, two, you’re the most charming, delightful, loveable woman in all of Hearth!”

  Praseme giggled. She found Mica’s lips in the dark and kissed them softly. “Have you forgotten your question about my bandaged hand?”

  “No—yes—what happened?”

  A rapping at the door cut off their conversation.

  Praseme hurriedly put on a robe and Mica did the same. Together they opened the door. Mairena stood in the tunnel holding a candle.

  “There’s trouble in the Hold. Valcere has locked Meluscia in a storage room along with Terling and Heulan. I heard from the servants in the entrance hall that the treaty Meluscia carried was signed.”

  “It was,” said Praseme. “We have to help her.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” said Mairena, “Food will be our weapon—come! I have a plan.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  AVEN

  “The kiehueth killed the entire crew,” said Aven, staring at the fire the warrior-woman had started just inside the recesses of the ship. “That’s why we crashed here.”

  She peered past Aven, out through the dark opening of the ship. Against his better judgment, the woman had convinced him to stay the night inside the vessel. He had objected, instead making a case for heading into the forest. The only response from the woman was a grunt followed by the phrase, “Do what I tell you, and you might live to see tomorrow.”

  The eyes of the woman before him darted away from the blackness at his back and glanced down briefly upon the fire. “Kiehueth, is that a type of creature from your world?”

  “That’s the name the mercenaries gave it,” said Aven. “It’s from some other world. Not mine.”

  The woman nodded without emotion. She had not said much since starting the fire. Aven watched the light of the flames shift over her face.

  Her eyes flashed upon his, fierce and mysterious.

  “We should sleep,” she said.

  Then she jumped up, grabbing the metal gridding above their heads. She swung her body upside down, so that her feet were flat against the ceiling. With a kick, a section of the gridded ceiling rattled off its holdings and crashed loudly to the floor. The woman pulled herself up into the opening and seated herself on a metal pipe running the length of the ceiling.

  She looked down at him and smiled thinly.

  “What are you doing?” asked Aven.

  “We’ll sleep up here. In case the animal returns.” She motioned with two fingers. “Throw me my bag.”

  Aven tossed it up.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Savarah. Yours?”

  “Aven.”

  “So, Aven, how did that thing get out?”

  “They tried to feed me to it for sport.”

  She paused for a moment. “They were drunk then?”

  Aven scowled up at her as she slipped out of sight behind a large metal plate. “Yes, that’s right,” he called after her.

  “You appear untouched…is that just luck?”

  Aven stared at the fire. “No, not luck. The kiehueth was toying with me, I think. Either that or…”

  “Or what?”

  Aven gave a humorless laugh. “Either that, or it’s decided to let me live.”

  Savarah’s head appeared above him, her eyes lost in some thought. “Interesting,” she finally said. Again, she disappeared into the ceiling grids.

  When she didn’t immediately return, Aven stepped around the fire toward the opening. Outside on the sand, Savarah’s horse waited, untied. She had said the horse would act as a watchman for them and snort at the first hint of trouble. Aven saw the gleam of firelight in the horse’s large eyes. Its nostrils flared, and it snorted at him, as if trying to intimidate him. The horse seemed to embody the ferocity of its rider.

  Aven returned to the fire.

  Savarah’s shadowed form hovered above him. “Do you know why Isolaug wants the kiehueth?” she asked.

  “No,” said Aven. “Why?”

  “Isolaug is preparing a powerful body for himself. He hires mercenaries to bring him exotic and deadly creatures from other worlds. These creatures serve as raw material for him. He’s like a blacksmith, taking one part from a sword, another from a shield, another from an axe. Eventuall
y, he hopes to make the ultimate weapon, the ultimate body.”

  The picture Savarah painted was disturbing. Aven listened to the crackle of the coals as the fire dwindled.

  “Thanks to that monster devouring the crew, we only have one danger to look out for tonight. I’ll be setting out on my own journey before dawn’s light. As for you, I suggest you make your way into the woods. Head away from the mountains and travel northwest. You’ll meet hospitable farm folk after a few days.”

  Aven sat on the cold metal floor and gazed at the orange embers. The words farm folk sang in his ears. Memories passed before his mind’s eye. Green fields. Seeds and dirt. A home to live in.

  Was it possible to dream again?

  The loud whinny of Savarah’s horse snapped Aven out of his reverie. His attention flew from the fire to the black, open mouth of twisted wreckage and the darkness outside.

  He sprang to his feet. The horse reared and snorted wildly, then it bolted away. After that, the night was silent. Then, a vibration, felt in the marrow of his bones. Then another. And another. Yet another vibration jiggled the floor. Through the torn opening in the broken craft, Aven saw a shadowy form in the darkness. The embers cast the faintest glow upon its monstrous shape.

  The kiehueth stepped into the opening, head cocked, its eyes fixed on Aven. It sniffed the air, its long, toothed snout rising.

  Aven sat frozen as the monster stepped closer. Like before, when it had him all alone as he stood outside the wreckage of the bridge, it seemed uninterested in him. The bulk of its scaled body moved past him, and one of its clawed, reptilian feet scattered the hot embers across the metal corridor.

  The great snout lifted to the opening in the ceiling where Savarah had disappeared.

  The creature stood sniffing at the hole for long moments. Suddenly, it leapt up on its hind legs and forced its forelimbs and head up through the ceiling. The metal shrieked under the kiehueth’s weight. Aven watched, frozen in place, as the animal brought down the entire scaffolding of ceiling grids.

  Savarah jumped to the floor a short distance down the corridor. She had something in her hands: a bow, with an arrow fitted to it.

  Immediately, the creature went back to all fours and stalked toward her.

  Aven sprang to his feet and followed the kiehueth. Savarah stood, face pale, arrow ready to fly. A strange look came into her eyes, and it made him wonder if the animal was speaking to her mind, as it had to his.

  Aven made a sudden decision and sprinted toward Savarah. The kiehueth was almost upon her when Aven slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. Her bow and arrow slid some distance away. In the shadowy light, he saw her eyes focus on his.

  “Get off!” she shouted, but Aven didn’t move.

  She pressed a cold knife against his throat, but her eyes were drawn past his to the creature whose head now hung over them.

  Aven felt the creature’s mind press against his. A quick image entered his thoughts. He saw himself rolling off Savarah right before the kiehueth’s clawed forelimb slammed down on her. Then her head was in its jaws.

  Aven didn’t move. The beast snorted. Was it giving him instructions? Was it really trying not to kill him?

  The creature snorted again. Aven felt its hot breath on his neck. The snout pressed against Aven’s side. In response, Aven clutched Savarah tighter.

  A sudden thrust of its snout sent Aven and Savarah tumbling across the floor. When they came to a stop, Aven quickly maneuvered himself over Savarah, so that she was beneath him. The creature shoved them again, but Aven maintained his position, gripping her tightly and shielding her from the kiehueth.

  “Why doesn’t it want you?” whispered Savarah.

  “I don’t know.”

  The creature shoved them again, harder than before. They went sliding through the remains of the fire. Coals burned his flesh, and Aven lost his grip on Savarah, tumbling out the mangled opening.

  Aven landed flat on his back on the ground and grimaced.

  “Aven!” shouted Savarah.

  “I’m right here!” he shouted back.

  She leapt from the opening, almost landing on him.

  Instantly, the kiehueth was upon them. Savarah dove to the ground just as Aven rolled over to shield her. A forelimb came down hard against his back. He cried out in pain, and then the forelimb lifted.

  Aven lay there still, a terrible pain burning his back.

  Again the kiehueth’s mind pressed upon his. This time, it was an image of a deer in a forest. The next moment, the deer hung draped across the mouth of the kiehueth. Then the deer disappeared. It was replaced by a human form. The body of Savarah.

  In response to the images, Aven closed his eyes and focused his mind on the kiehueth. He created an image, showing himself standing with Savarah tightly bound in his arms.

  A soft growl issued from the kiehueth’s thick throat.

  Another image pushed into Aven’s mind. It was of Aven stepping back from Savarah. The moment he left her side, the kiehueth leaped upon her and ripped her in half with its claws. Aven wasn’t certain, but it seemed the creature was making a promise—or giving a warning.

  If you leave her, she will die. Or more specifically, She will die if I can find a way to get her without harming you.

  A bizarre thought occurred to Aven, and he hesitated only a moment before he put an image into his own mind for the kiehueth to see.

  He showed himself standing beside the creature holding Savarah, but with one outstretched hand he stroked its thick hide, as if it were a dog.

  Aven released the image from his mind and opened his eyes. He turned his head to look at the great beast.

  The kiehueth grunted, then circled Aven and Savarah. Slowly, it lowered itself beside them, the hide of its belly expanding as its full weight settled on the desert floor. Aven felt the hide press against him.

  In the sudden stillness, Aven looked down at Savarah. The starlight illuminated her face. The wind blew strands of her hair across her nose and cheeks. She stared up at him, bewildered.

  “I made a deal with the animal,” said Aven.

  Savarah squinted. The fear on her face receded, and the emotions in her eyes collapsed into an indiscernible void. “Does the animal speak?” she asked coldly.

  “It speaks in images. Images in my mind. I spoke back with thought-pictures of my own.”

  “What kind of deal did you make?”

  Aven frowned, the rigidity in her tone making him realize Savarah might not like the arrangement. “The kiehueth promised not to kill you as long as killing you would harm me.” Aven faltered at that definition—it sounded jumbled in his ears. “What I mean is, I have to shield you from it. If it can find a way to kill you without hurting me, it will.”

  “Shit on that bargain,” breathed out Savarah, pressing her hands against his sides as if she were going to push him off of her. Then her tensed muscles relaxed. “If that animal is going to follow you, I have to get away. I have my own path to take. I need to be across the wastelands quickly. There are others I am racing against who want to kill me.”

  Aven wondered how she might get away. He thought of the farmlands she’d told him about and how much he wanted to go in that direction.

  He lay there in silence for a long time, absorbing the implications of this new situation. Somehow, he was bound to both a monstrous creature and a woman whose demeanor and gear marked her as some kind of outlaw.

  It slowly dawned on him that his dilemma was far more complicated and awful than he realized. He couldn’t go to the farmland. Not if the kiehueth intended to follow him. Did it? If so, why?

  The thought of the creature killing every person in his path gave him pause. If that was the case, it would be better to stay as far away from civilization as possible.

  Perhaps the woman’s path through the wasteland was the right direction for him after all.

  Aven closed his eyes and released a slow breath. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “At least until we c
an be rid of this thing.”

  He felt Savarah’s head move as she turned to look at the animal lying beside them.

  “It seems fate would have it no other way,” said Savarah. “Just know this: I will keep close to you to stay alive, but if you try and touch me in a way I do not like, I’ll turn you into a eunuch.”

  Aven nodded, as if she already had the cleaver in hand. “I promise…I would never.”

  “Fine,” said Savarah. She pivoted beneath him, pressing her body against the back of the kiehueth.

  “Now lie down,” Savarah whispered.

  Her commanding tone bothered him. There was no gratitude in her voice, as if the inconvenient arrangement they were in was his fault.

  He lowered himself down to the ground and put his arms protectively around her.

  “Turn over,” she said coldly.

  He looked at her, confused, and saw anger in her eyes. “I want that twig between your legs pointed away from me.”

  He rolled over and she put her arms around his midsection, then pulled him tight against her. “If the kiehueth moves, I’ll pull you on top of me. Otherwise, I want as much space as safety allows. Now, let’s go to sleep. Tomorrow, we begin our journey. My mission cannot fail.”

  Aven sighed, annoyed by her harsh manner and selfish demands. She didn’t seem to have a trace of sympathy for his own plight.

  “Goodnight,” said Aven tersely. He folded his arms together for warmth. After a while, he closed his eyes but found sleep hard to grasp. What would life be like come daybreak? There were so many questions revolving around the kiehueth. But also, there was the question of Savarah’s destination and the reason behind it.

  Where was she going? And who was trying to kill her?

  Whatever her mission was, it was clear she was determined to carry it out.

  LOAM

  My beauty is gone. My allure has passed. The men of my tribe, they do not behave as they once did in my presence. When I was young, I enjoyed my beauty. I was confident in it. I knew it was a passing splendor, but I could not fathom living without it. My legs were full of strength, my breasts round and firm, my face young and vibrant.