Three Queens

THREE QUEENS

(Book eight of The Free Land Chronicles)

YVONNE C. CARSLEY

Three Queens

(Book eight of The Free Land Chronicles)

Ebook (Smashwords Edition)

Written by Yvonne C. Carsley.

Published by Yvonne Carsley.

Copyright Yvonne C. Carsley 2014. All rights reserved.

The rights of Yvonne C. Carsley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

OTHER WORKS BY THIS AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

They fled the city in the darkest hour of the night. It was cold but dry, a late winter frost lay on the ground and their breaths plumed on the air as they exhaled. Most of the city slept. The only souls still awake were the ever-watchful guards working the night shift and a few weary insomniacs – plus that traitorous and idiotic fool no doubt already warming her barely-vacated throne.

She snarled under her breath as she hurried through the secret tunnels; scurrying away like a rat, she could not help but think. Behind her came the sounds of harsh breathing as her loyal followers hurried to keep pace with her. She had chosen only those she felt absolutely certain she could trust, those she felt she could actually call friend. There were others who would have pledged allegiance if she had asked them but their loyalty she was not so certain of.

Those who followed behind were trusted confidantes, loyal soldiers, faithful allies whose hands she would put her life in without a second thought. There were the soldiers; Kero and Tean, brothers, and sons of the man whose bulky frame led the way. With them came others, fresh recruits, young and eager, not yet corrupted by ambition and greed. Behind them the old men who had been faithful advisors to both her and her father. Old men who had beaten off corruption and whose only desire was to see their city prosper and its inhabitants lead full, rich lives free of fear and sickness. Behind them came the women, ladies-in-waiting and her trusted nurse. Behind them, more soldiers. Older, more experienced, their ears alert for any sound of danger coming from the rear, their eyes scanning the shadows for possible threats. And in front, their commander, their great chief, Captain Estar Darian. Fifty-two years old, blonde-haired, blue-eyed and hugely built, he nevertheless managed to move like one far leaner and much younger.

He turned to glance over his shoulder. Your Majesty?

I’m fine, she replied. Keep going. I’ll match your pace.

He nodded and turned back to focus on the path ahead. There was little illumination and they dared not light a torch. The smell of smoke would give away their position. Vampires had excellent noses. Instead they travelled by the light of the star-lamp that had so mysteriously come into their possession just as they needed it. It was such a bright little thing, the single starlight grain within could have easily flooded the entire tunnel with light but as though knowing that a harsh light could also have given away their position it emitted only a pale glow. Farina wondered how the lamp could know anything, it was just a tool, but she was less concerned with that and more concerned about the vampires and her stupid fool of a brother.

Molan’s arrogance and greed had blinded him as to what was really going on. He thought he was using the Dark Queen but in truth, she was using him. She had sent him the reinforcements he needed to oust his sister and place himself on the throne but he had not bothered to examine them too closely. Their helmets and the cloths swaddling their faces had deterred him somewhat but though Molan was easily fooled, Farina was not. The way the intruders moved was a dead giveaway. The fluidity of their motions, the way their heads turned so that their ears could catch the smallest sound, their noses the tiniest scent, their eyes the most miniscule of movements revealed them for what they were.

The vampires were the first wave of the attack, she knew. Soon their commander would make her entrance, with more vampires in tow most likely, and werewolves too. She wrinkled her nose as though she could already smell them. She had a finely attuned nose and was not likely to forget their stench. Not after what had happened to Anasais.

Had Molan not been such an ass, had he bothered to listen to their teachers, he would have realised what he had invited into their home. As it was, he had allied himself with monsters and did not even know it. She felt a tiny twinge of pity for him. When he did realise it would be too late. They would eat him alive. She grimaced and pushed the sentiment away. Brother he might be but there had been little love between them over the years, if any. He had allied himself with the Dark Queen, brought monsters to her beloved city and sent assassins to her bedchamber to kill not only her but her child as well.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her frame, covering the bump that clung tightly to her beneath it.

Tirov was barely four years old but he had been through more in this one night than he had in his whole life so far: vampires, assassins, daggers and spilt blood, and now this fearful mad dash as they fled for their lives. He shivered as he held tightly to her. His little arms were fastened around her neck; his legs around her waist. His tears were soaking into her nightgown but not once did he utter so much as the smallest squeak.

Quiet! Darian suddenly hissed, unnecessarily.

The tunnel they travelled led out of the palace, snaked under the city, beneath the river and took its travellers right up to and slightly beyond the border of the forest. The group now stood, catching their breaths, preparing to go up. Darian stood stock-still with a gloved hand raised for silence. He stood listening for a long time but she knew not to say anything until he deemed it safe. Finally, the hand was lowered and he gestured for his sons to come forward.

Above their heads was a large oak panel with great brass rings attached to both sides. Darian took hold of those on the left side; his two boys grabbed hold of those on the right and together they heaved and heaved until the panel swung down with a great groan. Dirt and small rocks tumbled into the passage, sending up a cloud of choking dust. The party had had the presence of mind to cover their mouths and noses but the dust in their eyes could not be helped. They blinked back tears as Darian cleared the way and ordered his sons to make a ladder with their hands. The soldiers went up first, checking the way was safe before lowering their hands to the women. The advisors went up next and then the captain’s sons. They turned and held out their hands to her. She whispered for Tirov to hold tight and reached up to clasp them. She was pulled up in one quick movement. For a moment, she felt Darian’s reassuring hand touch her ankle and then the frosty night air struck her in the face.

She turned and watched as Kero and Tean lowered their hands to their father, groaning through gritted teeth as they hauled his muscular bulk up through the hole in the earth. Once out he took no time in closing the secret trapdoor and re-covering it with earth and fallen branches. When all was to his satisfaction, he took command of the group once more. The women were placed in the middle, the advisors behind them and the soldiers surrounding them in a tight, protective formation. Kero and Tean took up rear positions, their father trusting them implicitly to warn him of any following danger. He took the lead, one hand wrapped around the hilt of his massive sword.

They moved quickly and noiselessly through the forest, their voices still but their hearts pounding. Every dark shadow, every rustling leaf, every shriek from a passing night bird seemed an ill omen. There was danger all around; in the very air. Tirov clung tighter to his mother. His fear was increasing. His tiny heart pounded against her breast but she dared not speak to soothe him lest unfriendly ears were listening. She stroked his back, hoping this alone would be enough to ease his terror. Curse Molan, she thought angrily. If he wanted her throne so badly he should have fought her for it, honestly and in the open, like a man of honour. Honour! She sneered inwardly. Molan had no honour. He sent assassins to his sister’s bedchamber to kill her while she slept. He sent assassins to kill a little boy!

How surprised those individuals had been to discover that Queen Farina, widow of Anasais, did not sleep alone. And how surprised they had been on discovering that the nurse who watched over Tirov while he slept was far from the slight and mousy woman she appeared. Their attackers had been dispatched with ease. The vampires had died within her quarters; their blood would stain her carpets forever.

It was on fleeing her rooms she had noticed the two men lying dead in the corridor. The marks on their necks told of how they met their end. The fact that they wore assassin’s daggers at their waists and she had recognised them as being close friends of Molan told her what their intentions were to have been. She had not seen Molan (knocked unconscious by the vampires and stuffed into a curtained alcove) but she knew with a scary certainty that he was behind the entire affair.

Under normal circumstances she would have ordered him hunted down and brought to justice. This was a coup, or at least a very badly-attempted one. He was a traitor. Brother or not she would have to punish him properly this time.

But these were not normal circumstances. Molan was not truly in charge here, however much he liked to think he was.

She was in charge; the Dark Queen.

Farina shivered at the name. No matter how many times she heard it, it sent a chill through to her core. The Dark Queen was coming for her city, for her son, for her. And Molan had shown her the way.

She shuddered again; this time with anger.

Her home. The Dark Queen was coming to take over her home and Molan had opened the door. And instead of staying to defend it she was fleeing.

The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was a cowardly thing to do but as Darian pointed out he who runs away lives to fight another day and more importantly there was Tirov to worry about. He had to be her first priority. He was the heir to Maranea’s throne and, more importantly, he was her son, her only child. The only child she was likely to have. There had been interference during the birth, which had caused damage that had gone unnoticed at first. She was unlikely to conceive again. If Tirov died, she would be left with nothing. That she could not, would not allow.

She patted him through the cloak and felt his hand grip her neck in reply. She smiled to herself. He was a small, shy boy but even at only four years old, he had shown more honour than her worthless little brother. He would make a great king someday. She felt sure of it. If he lived to see someday, that was.

Suddenly, Darian stopped, his hand going up again. Into the trees! he called. Climb! Climb!

The group darted in all directions, not questioning his order for a moment. The advisors scrambled into the trees, dragging the women with them. Farina resisted the urge to turn and speak to Darian. He said climb so she climbed, springing up into a nearby oak with the athleticism borne of a ruthless exercise regime. Darian stood his ground; his sons either side of him. The other soldiers waited at the foot of the trees, determined that no one was going to get past them to the women.

Father? murmured Kero.

Listen, he replied.

What? asked Tean. I don’t hear anything.

Precisely. No birds, no animals. They’ve been frightened off.

Vampire? said Kero.

Vampires. There, Darian pointed to the left, and there. His blade swung right. You remember your training, boys?

Of course, papa, Tean replied.

Keep your swords up and your necks down. Let them come to us.

The boys lifted their swords and stood silent and motionless. Kero peered into the darkness of the forest. He saw nothing but something was there. He sensed eyes watching him. A flash of red caught his eye. Two tiny pinpricks of ruby-red winked on and off; vampire eyes, glinting wetly in the dark. He sensed movement. The air had changed ever so subtly. Something was coming. The air was moving fast now. He whirled to the right, his blade slicing upwards and forwards. There was a grunt and a cry. He staggered back but remained upright.

Impaled on his sword, the tip of which protruded from between her shoulder-blades, was a seemingly young woman with coal-black hair, cut short to frame her angular face. She snarled and lashed out at him, her black talons coming dangerously close to ripping his face open. He snapped his head back but continued to push forward with his sword, giving her no room to wriggle free.

Stupid human, she hissed. You can’t kill me with your puny weapon.

Don’t be so sure, soul-feeder, he retorted, pushing forward. Silver-tipped.

The vampire looked down in horror. White smoke was curling up from her wound and a burning pain slowly building in her chest. Silver poisoning! She screeched and pin-wheeled with her arms but Kero continued to push forward, driving the sword deeper and deeper, pushing her back until she fetched up against a tree. With a sharp thrust, he drove the weapon into the hard wood and left the woman trapped like a bug on a pin. Her death screams filled the forest as the silver poison was pumped around her body by the heart through which the weapon ran. The stench of scorched flesh reached Kero’s nostrils. He gagged but did not vomit. He turned from her to help his father.

The second vampire, tall and muscular had sprung from nowhere. Tean had rushed to Darian’s aid only to be tossed aside. He lay bloody and dazed on the ground – a sitting duck for any enemy but the vampire had no interest in him for the moment. She intended to deal with Darian first, seeing that he was the leader. Without him the others would flounder without his guidance and be easier to deal with, but Darian was proving to be more difficult a prey than the vampire had imagined.

For such a big man he moved fast and he whirled his sword around and around, not allowing the vampire to get close enough to bite him. She glanced at her partner impaled on the tree. Having seen the effect Kero’s sword had had on her she eyed Darian’s sword warily and snarled as once again the man danced away.

Kero raced to his brother’s side and snatched up his fallen blade. He approached the vampire cautiously, whirling his sword in imitation of his father. He did not have as much power in his arms, but did not have to keep up the action for long. Just long enough for his father to strike the killing blow. Together the two men closed in.

The vampire found herself trapped between them. The blades swung closer and closer. With a snarl, she knew the only way out was up. She crouched and bounded, leaping high into the air. Pain ripped through her legs and she looked down. Blood gushed from the stumps where her feet had once been. She dropped back down, landing with a cry of agony and tried to crawl away, but Darian knew that should she return to the city she would only return with reinforcements. He had to finish it now. No survivors. No mercy.

He drove his sword through the vampire’s chest, piercing her heart and pinning her to the ground. Then he took Kero’s sword and without a moment’s hesitation sliced her head cleanly from her body. He kicked it away into the bushes and nodded grimly to his son.

Tend to your brother. Staunch the flow of the blood from his head wound. We cannot leave a trail for any more of these monsters to follow.

Yes, father. Kero hurried away.

Darian spared a brief moment to look down at the headless vampire. The creature’s hands still twitched at its sides, its will to live so fierce that even without its head it still fought for its life. Darian retrieved his sword and set about dismembering the body. A messy business but a necessary one. He placed the separate pieces away from each other, burying them in shallow graves, then returned to his charges.

It’s safe now, he called. Come down.

The advisors and the women climbed gingerly out of the trees, the smell of blood in the air churning their stomachs. Farina came down last; Tirov still safely concealed beneath her cloak where, thankfully he had seen nothing of what had went on below. He had heard enough though to give him nightmares for weeks.

Farina moved to stand by Darian. Captain? she murmured.

There are no more, he assured her, but we should move on quickly before more arrive. I promised to keep you safe, Your Majesty. I’ll not fail you, he added, seeing her worried frown.

When I hired you to be my personal bodyguard I thought you’d be protecting me from human enemies, not vampires. What was Molan thinking? she said angrily. He’d send vampires to kill me, to kill my son? He would dare do such a thing! Her shoulders shook with anger.

Darian reached out, hesitated and then gently clasped her arms. He’ll not get away with it, Your Majesty. We’ll return and defeat him.

Yes, we’ll return but I think Molan will be long dead when we do. She’ll not tolerate his weakness for long and when we return what will we find? What will she do to my city; my people? By the gods! We can’t leave them to her whims. If she’d harm her own people what will she do to mine?

We have no choice. You know what the old witch said? If we’d stayed she would’ve killed us. He gripped her arms tighter. We’re not running away. We’re going to get help. You know what the witch said, that we couldn’t defeat her alone? We must go south. We must do what she said and draw her away from Maranea.

But in the meantime my city is in the hands of a madwoman.

Mad, yes but she’s not a god. There’s only so much she can do and anyway, it’s not your city she wants, but you. When she finds you gone she’ll leave Maranea and come after us.

Is this your way of cheering me up? Farina smiled wryly and looked deep into his eyes. There was great strength within them – strength and steely resolve. He smiled at her, an expression that warmed her instantly and made her feel safe despite everything. She began to lean in, her lips parting slightly.

Father?

Darian turned.

We’re ready. Kero stood with his arm around his brother’s waist.

Tean’s head was bandaged. He was unsteady on his feet but he smiled encouragingly at his father. Ready to go, sir, he said, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

Alright. Same formation as before: women in the middle, advisors around them, soldiers at all sides. Kero, you and Tean take the point. I’ll bring up the rear.

Yes, father.

Alright. Everybody set? Let’s move on.

----

By morning, the group arrived, tired and dirty at the home of Lucia, Tirov’s nurse. After coming to live in the palace, she had left it in the care of her sister, Mercia. She stood in the doorway as the bedraggled group arrived, having been expecting them. She ushered them inside quickly, closing the door and bolting it. She peered briefly out of the windows then turned away. She moved quickly about the house, preparing food and gathering supplies for the men. She made ready some hot water for them to wash up and brought a warm milky drink for Tirov. Farina thanked her and asked what news she had.

Molan’s soldiers were here not more than one hour ago. Mercia hurried to pack up bread and cakes and anything else that would survive a long trip. They’re searching all the homes along the border. They know that technically we’re so far on the edge that we don’t come under Maranea’s rule and their searches only go so far. They’ve searched the public areas and have come so far as to enter our gardens. They look through the windows but don’t enter. They put up notices to say that they’re looking for renegade soldiers who’ve kidnapped the queen and her son.

Farina snorted. That was so like Molan. To make it appear as though his concern was for her safety when it was actually for the fact she might escape his clutches. Though were these soldiers sent from Molan or were they now in her employ? She chewed her lip and wondered.

Are they still around? Darian asked.

No. We checked. They’ve definitely gone. There were but a handful of them and they had a strong desire to be gone by daybreak.

I’ll bet, he muttered.

There are men patrolling the borders. They’ll warn us if anyone returns but I don’t think it wise for you to linger here long.

We weren’t planning to. In fact, if everyone is just about ready we’ll be off. Darian noticed the disappointed looks. I know you’re tired but Mercia is right. We dare not stay here longer than we have to. Not only do we endanger ourselves but we endanger the lives of the people living here.

The group nodded understanding, knowing he was right but not liking to give up their comfort so soon. The advisors were particularly put out. They were old men and had never been soldiers. They were used to the warmth of their council chambers and the sturdy comfort of their high-backed chairs with the embroidered cushions. This was early morning. By rights, they should have been tucked up in their feather beds or perhaps rising to take morning tea.

The women made no comment. They were used to early mornings, rising as they did with their queen, who herself liked the quietness of the breaking dawn. Having been a nurse for thirty years the middle-aged Lucia was equally used to early mornings and having trained the Al’jira in her youth was equally used to strenuous activity. She did not much care for fleeing in the middle of the night, nor care for being chased by vampires, but she was not a woman to complain unless there was something worthwhile to complain about. They might be a little tired, rather dishevelled and not to mention a little smelly after the night’s activities but at least they were alive. As far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered.

She hefted a bag of fresh food and placed a roll of blankets on her back. Middle-aged and slightly greying she might be but she was no weak little woman. She saw Councilman Joust eyeing her with admiration. He had damaged his shoulder in a fall from a horse a few years previously and could not have carried such a weight with apparent ease. The youngest member of Maranea’s council (fifty-seven years old, brown hair with a few streaks of white and light-grey eyes) he was quite attractive. She smiled encouragingly at him. Not long now, old boy. Another few miles and then we’ll reach the boat at Threllheld. They’ll have beds and chairs. Nothing as fancy as what you’d get in the palace but comfy enough.

I’m sure if you can make it, Madame, then so can I, he replied, smiling in return.

Alright, Darian interrupted. Let’s not waste anymore time.

He ordered everyone out of the house, lingering for a moment as Lucia bade her sister farewell, tapping his foot with impatience, his eyes scanning the surroundings for hidden danger.

The group hurried on again, slightly refreshed, having gathered much-needed supplies and news of Molan’s treachery. More vampires sent to find her, Farina thought, anger stirring in her again. It was fortunate that Mercia and her people had not been attacked. Farina wondered why not. The vampires had rules, but in coming after her, they had clearly already violated them. Why spare Mercia’s people? Was it the will of the Dark Queen? What was it, this power she had to control werewolves and vampires?

Hurry, Your Majesty, Darian murmured by her side, seeing her starting to dawdle. Leave whatever questions you have for another time. Concentrate on one thing, getting to the boat. All other thoughts are a distraction right now.

She nodded and shifted Tirov’s weight upwards. Her arms were starting to ache but at such a fast pace, she could not put him down. His little legs were not long enough or strong enough to match their speed.

Give him to me, Darian murmured, holding out his hands.

Farina pushed aside her cloak and handed Tirov over. He wrapped his arms around Darian’s huge neck and rested his head on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against the captain’s shoulder-guards. Darian supported his weight with one free hand, while keeping his other on his sword. Farina moved closer to his side. He loomed over her but his huge stature comforted rather than intimidated her. Her shoulder brushed his arm. He briefly moved his hand from his sword to reach around her waist. His fingers stroked her back for a few minutes and then his hand returned to the hilt of his blade.

The group pushed on, silently and swiftly.

----

They reached their destination at midday. The sun was high and hot, the group sweating and irritable. The cool breeze floating along the river lifted their spirits and the sight of the little dock with a boat anchored waiting for them cheered them up no end.

Lithe, grey-skinned figures with flowing silver hair and shining silver eyes moved to greet them. Water-dwellers, allies of the Maraneans. Allies of Farina’s anyway. Molan’s dislike of all outsiders had prevented him from finding any friendship with them.

A small contingent of the water-dwellers resided in the Berjafil River surrounding Maranea. They had built the docks and the boat that awaited Farina’s group. Their leader had called it a pleasure boat, its purpose to ferry Farina up and down the river during the summer months, but for a pleasure boat it seemed unusually sturdy and the dock to which it was moored was heavily protected. Not even Molan could get close to it. And he had tried.

He had been discovered several times trying to board the boat, claiming he had a right as the prince to sail on any royal ship. The water-dwellers thwarted him at every attempt. Farina might have been willing to grant Molan the benefit of the doubt but they were not. They did not want him on that boat. They did not trust him. They did not like him. For a water-dweller the latter was reason enough to keep him away.

Your Majesty.

Farina pushed thoughts of her idiot brother aside and greeted the water-dweller’s leader with true pleasure. She was not just an ally but a friend. Illiana. She smiled as the other woman glided with enviable grace to her side. We need your help.

I know. Everything is ready.

So I see. Farina eyed the boat, seeing that supplies were already being taken aboard and that the sails were already unfurled. Are you psychic, Lady Illiana?

She smiled tightly. I didn’t need any mind-reading abilities to know that one day Your Majesty would require an escape plan. Illiana wished she could say more. There were things Farina ought to know but there was no time. She had her instructions and they were to ensure that the Maranean queen got away safely. She ushered the group quickly to the boat and helped them aboard, while telling Farina what little there was time for.

We’ve received word that people have been asking questions about you. Notices have been posted in various small settlements along this river. Reward notices. One hundred gold coins for any information leading to the whereabouts of the renegade Captain Estar Darian.

Don’t tell me, for the abduction of Queen Farina?

Abduction and possible murder.

By the bright light! Molan’s got some cheek. He’s going to pay for this.

Your Majesty, Darian cautioned.

I know, I know. Anger clouds judgement, but he just makes me so mad. He’s been so jealous of me for as long as I can remember and I’m sick of it. I’m the oldest. Maranea’s rightful ruler by law and yet he acts as though I stole his birthright. He’s not even father’s–

Darian’s hand gripped her shoulder. Easy, Your Majesty, he murmured. Molan is an ass but he’s also a puppet and you know who’s playing his strings. Save your anger for her. You’ll need it. Molan will pay for his arrogance; one way or another. Right now our thoughts must turn to our futures; to Tirov’s. We’re not out of danger yet. Molan knows the water-dwellers are loyal to you and that they’re bound to help you. He may already be sending out patrols to search the river. We must be on our way. He turned from her to Illiana. Many thanks for your help, lady. When we’re gone, you must disassemble these docks and then move all your people out before Molan or anyone else should arrive here in search of us.

I thought we’d be going with you.

That’s not safe. We’re wanted criminals, according to Molan. If there are rewards posted for our capture people will be watching for us. If they should catch us you’d be taken as accessories.

But the boat–

We’ll manage it. I’ve sailed in my youth. I think I can remember how everything works, and if not I’ll learn fast. Believe me, he said, we’ll all be a lot safer if we go our separate ways. I don’t want to be responsible for anything bad happening to you. Disassemble the dock and return to Eranourus. You’ll be far safer there.

I’m not afraid of Molan, Illiana said haughtily, or vampires, or the Dark Queen. Neither they nor she would dare to harm someone of my standing.

I wouldn’t like to bet on that, lady. Molan is a fool and fools are apt to do foolish things. As for the Dark Queen; as far as she’s concerned, if you’re not with her, you’re against her. The vampires…? He shrugged. How much control she really has over them I wouldn’t like to speculate.

I doubt they’d find my cold blood quite to their liking.

Maybe not, but they’d certainly enjoy killing you. What would be your chances in a physical fight with a soul-feeder, truthfully, lady?

Illiana said nothing, not wanting to admit that she would be no match. Water-dwellers did not admit weakness, to anyone.

You’ll do as I say, lady? Darian said. Rip up the dock and leave, as soon as we’ve gone?

If it’ll ease your mind, yes.

Good. Pride is a good thing, lady, but not if it gets you killed.

Darian instructed his group to take their places on board the boat. He took the wheel. Kero and Tean cast off the ropes. Everyone but the soldiers was ordered below decks. Most went without complaint. Farina hesitated and looked back over one shoulder. Darian nodded at her and bade her to go. She lingered a moment then descended into her quarters.

----

Illiana did as Darian asked. The dock was hastily disassembled and as an afterthought the ground Darian’s group had passed over was combed through to remove all traces of their footprints. She then ordered her small band of followers to start the long journey back to Eranourus. The two-dozen men and women stripped off their flimsy garments, which they only wore while on dry land, and dived into the water. The shadows streaked away down river, moving with unencumbered grace and agility. Illiana waited till she was the last one standing, ensuring that each member of her group was safely away before she reached to pull her silky, silver dress up over her head. She gripped the hem and lifted.

My lady would like a word with you, Illiana.

She whirled. Who are you? she demanded as a woman dressed all in black stepped out of the shadows.

Mistress Helesa, at your service. The woman smiled and bowed.

I don’t know you.

I know you and I know what you’ve been up to; helping certain people to get away from my lady.

Your lady?

You know who I mean. The one whose name you dare not utter.

The Dark Queen! You work for her?

I do her bidding from time to time.

Why? You know what she’s doing. You must know that she’s mad.

Mad? That’s such a strong word. My lady is simply frustrated. The world is not as she would like it. It never will be, but she tries so hard to make it so and you have to give her credit for effort. Don’t do that, dear.

Illiana stopped in the act of creeping ever-so-slowly towards the river.

My lady only wishes to talk.

I don’t want to talk to her. I’ve nothing to say. I’ll not tell her what she wants to know. I’ll not help her to kill Queen Farina or her child.

Kill? She doesn’t want to kill them. She wants to protect them, from Molan.

A likely story. The Dark Queen is overtaking Maranea. Molan is only doing what she’s instructed.

My lady plays the idiot man. She sent her people after Farina, not to harm her but to help her. You must come with me and tell my lady where she’s gone.

I don’t think so. Illiana took a step back.

Helesa sighed. What my lady wants, my lady gets. Jumping in the water will do you no good. I too can swim. Much faster than you I assure you.

I wasn’t planning on taking a swim.

Illiana reached down and grasped the hem of her dress. Helesa’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Then she gasped as the woman flung the material up over her head and tossed it in her face. Helesa fought the shiny material and ripped it away. The distraction lasted but a few seconds but it was all the time the water-dweller needed to free the short, thin dagger strapped to her thigh. Helesa lunged forward, crying out as the other woman brought the blade up in a sharp, thrusting motion. Illiana fell forward into the witch’s arms, blue-grey blood pouring from her throat.

Helesa lowered the body to the ground, staring in disbelief at the blood soaking into the grass.

Now why would you want to go and do a silly thing like that? she muttered in frustration. Are these humans really worth dying for? They have some good qualities I’ll grant you that but enough to die for? She shook her head. My lady is not going to be best pleased about this. All she wanted to do was talk. She wouldn’t have hurt you. Helesa knelt over the body and stroked Illiana’s satin-like hair. Not much anyway.

She sighed and stood back. With a murmured word, she melted into the shadows and vanished. My lady would not be best pleased at all to discover Farina had eluded her once again, but no matter. The woman could not run forever. She would most likely come to my lady of her own free will in the end. She would want a reckoning. All the Dark Queen need do was wait and be patient, but patience was not one of her virtues. She had plans, immediate plans for the very near future and was eager for Farina to be a part of them.

Helesa very much doubted that Farina would ever bow to the Dark Queen but my lady was determined to give her a least one more chance to change her mind. Helesa knew that Farina, like my lady, was proud and stubborn and not about to bend her neck to anyone, least of all anyone who thought to harm her child. The Dark Queen refused to accept this but in time would have to. She had no choice but to. Helesa suspected that Farina was going to prove more elusive and cunning than the Dark Queen supposed, and that the reckoning between the two would come sooner rather than later. The witch did not like to offer odds as to who would come out on top, and was certainly not going to say who she hoped would win. Either or neither. It made no difference to her. She already had what she wanted. Anything else was a bonus.

What to say to my lady though? What to say when she asked about Illiana? She had had plans for her as well; plans that had not involved death. She was going to be most put out by the news, but she was a woman who adapted quickly. She had to be. She made enemies swiftly, often without meaning to and had to be ever ready to deal with them: first the blessed sisters, then Farina, now the water-dwellers. Illiana had been one of their many prizes, worth more than any jewel. Her death was going to cost the Dark Queen dearly; very dearly.

CHAPTER TWO

Molan sat on the throne of Orteya, the Sphere of Earth above his head. Its surface shone with the mingling colours of rich browns, verdant greens and corn yellows but he paid it no mind. It was the great golden chair of Orteya that interested him, not the sphere. The sphere contained the power but the throne contained the history.

Seventeen kings had sat on this mighty chair; twice as many queens but Molan dismissed them. Simpering, smiling women who thought to rule a kingdom by fluttering their lashes and dancing the night away with ambassadors, earls, dukes, legates and councillors from all nations. Foolish women, thinking they knew as much about affairs of state as men. Women who truly believed that old nonsense about the hand that rocked the cradle.

Bitches, the lot of them. Painted whores, floosies and traitorous sluts. Pity the city ruled by a woman. Pity the men who cringed and bowed at the feet of harlots and hussies. No more, he snarled inwardly. This was a throne for men. A huge, monstrous piece of furniture crafted from pure gold, designed to be strong and last, fashioned to exude weighty, masculine power. This was a chair for him, not for the lithe and slender Farina. This was a chair for someone possessing a broad chest and muscular thighs; a chair for a man whose arms rippled with strength. To see Farina sitting here, swallowed up in its massive embrace was just ridiculous. She looked like a child sitting in her daddy’s place. Her feet only just reached the floor for heaven’s sake!

He gripped the armrests and beamed, imagining all the people who would come to court to see him, bow to him, and offer him tribute. He smiled at the thought of all the women who would be forced to bow to him. Women he could have his pick of. He gripped the armrests tighter, his eyes slipping shut, delightful warmth spreading up from his groin as he thought of them kneeling to kiss his pampered feet. He imagined their lips on his skin, their painted, wet lips. He imagined their tongues lapping at his toes as he ordered them to clean them. He groaned and writhed in his seat.

Having fun, Your Highness?

He yelped, his face burning with humiliation at being caught so off-guard. He regained his composure swiftly, masking his embarrassment with a too-bright smile. You startled me, Madame.

Did I? She glanced around the room, her eye passing briefly over the sphere before dismissing it. That was not why she was here.

I did not expect to see you in my city so swiftly. I thought you’d wait until my victory was assured.

"Your victory?"

Our victory.

Ours? Urm. Yes. Ours. You’ve found my soldiers to have been of help, Your Highness?

Indeed I have. Why did she make Your Highness sound like such an insult, he wondered. They’re amazingly efficient, Madame.

I know. I see they’re everywhere throughout the city.

I didn’t even need to tell them. They knew exactly where I wanted them to go.

Where I wanted, the woman murmured, so softly he did not hear her properly.

Pardon?

You’ll find my soldiers extremely efficient in all matters, the woman continued, pretending not to hear his question, but I’m told you sent some of your own men to deal with your sister.

Yes.

I thought we’d agreed that I’d take care of that piece of business for you; so that you could avoid the stigma of scandal.

I decided I’d rather deal with her myself. What kind of king would I be if I hired outsiders to do things that I found distasteful? A king must be strong and do many things he may not like. If I left my sister’s fate in someone else’s hands I could be accused of weakness, of sentimentality.

So you sent your assassins to deal with her?

Trusted friends who–

Made a right royal mess of things, Your Highness.

There it was again, he thought, that tone suggesting insult. He wriggled in his seat. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that the fault was not all his. Her soldiers had been the cause of the trouble. They wanted the glory for themselves. Their greed had given Farina the chance to escape. They had dealt with him childishly, shoving him out of the way. His head still throbbed with the blow he had been given. He wanted their heads but Farina, or rather that hulking monstrosity that called himself her protector, had beat him to it. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell the woman all of this but he did not want to sound like some whiny little brat. She already looked down her nose at him as it was. He would not have her thinking he could not maintain order in what was now his house. There was a problem. I’m dealing with it.

No, Your Highness, I am. I’ve sent my own people to take care of it.

Now, just a minute–!

Save your blustering. I’ve no interest in it. I’ve no interest in you at all. You’ve done your part. I thank you. You’re dismissed.

What?

I said you’re dismissed. Velda!

Molan stared: confusion, anger and disbelief flashing across his features, as half a dozen black-garbed soldiers marched into the room. Their faces were swathed or masked but now with more time to study them closely he was beginning to have some seriously worrying thoughts. Something about the way they concealed their eyes disturbed him. For a moment, when the light caught their faces just right, two little red lights glinted like rubies behind the gauze. He gulped and rose to his feet. He pulled his shoulders back defiantly, trying not to seem scared. What is the meaning of this, Queen Julill?

The meaning would only confuse your tiny mind. Let’s just say that you’re a fool and I’ve fooled you. Velda, take the fool away. I hear there are some very nice dungeons in this place. They haven’t been used in quite some time though so His Highness should find that he has them all to himself. See to his comfort. I’m not unmerciful, Your Highness, she said as Molan was led forcibly away. You’ve given me your fine city. I shall in return give you your life.

You can’t do this! he roared, kicking and struggling as the soldiers dragged him away. They were preternaturally strong and laughed at his feeble attempts. You can’t do this to me! I’m king. I’m king! You can’t do this!

Julill smiled thinly and seated herself on the golden throne. Power, yes. She felt it. History, most definitely. Over seventeen kings and over twice as many queens. She dismissed the kings. Grizzled old men and horny youths more concerned with chasing women than running a country. They were not worthy of honour and certainly not worth remembering.

You can’t do this! I’m king. You can’t do this! echoed around the palace.

Julill steepled her hands and crossed her legs. I can. I think I just did, she murmured. She tapped the back of her heel against the throne, getting a nice, steady rhythm going. Farina, she muttered. Where have you got to? Where are you headed? Who will take you in? Who?

----

Your Majesty.

Farina woke with a start. She had not meant to fall asleep but had been so tired. Having put Tirov to bed, she had closed her eyes for a moment, quickly succumbing to the mists of sleep. Who? What? she exclaimed, reaching for the dagger at her belt.

It’s alright. It’s me, Kero.

Oh. Kero. She blinked in the gloom. How long was I out?

A few hours.

Hours! She bolted upright.

Everything is alright, he assured her. Tean and I are keeping watch. Father is still at the helm. He refuses to hand control over to someone else and he needs rest. He won’t obey me.

Well, he’ll obey me. Farina climbed to her feet and strode out of the cabin.

Kero returned to the bow, where he stood watch with his brother. He glanced back as the young queen made her way to his father’s side. He saw them exchange words. He saw his father shaking his head firmly. So stubborn, Kero thought with a shake of his. Farina gesticulated. Darian shook his head again, refusing to be swayed. Then Farina lifted her hand to touch his cheek so tenderly. Kero looked away, his face warming. He should not be watching.

Farina pressed her hand against Darian’s rough cheek and stroked it gently, lovingly. "There