Melisende And The Star Warrior

by Marie Dry

  Melisende and the Star Warrior

  Marie Dry

  Copyright © 2019 by Marie Dry

  Cover Design by Dar Albert

  All Rights Reserved

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  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  France 1065

  The unwieldly carriage harnessed to two horses, front and back, sauntered down the dirt road.

  Zain hunkered down on the mountain, watching from above as the odd vehicle carried his breeder at the pace of a snail. For a human century, he’d been trapped in primitive hell. His plan to take a breeder immediately and enjoy the time alone with her, had crumpled like an Aurelian warrior faced with honorable battle—these short, medieval humans stank worse than a Zyrgin mud slug in heat, and he didn’t want a midget for his breeder. So, he’d decided to wait a few centuries to take one.

  The plain wooden conveyance that held his breeder meandered toward the castle of Robert the Brave, the knight she thought she was going to marry. Until two months ago, Zain had thought he was doomed to wait out another lonely century.

  Loneliness was the hardest battle he’d ever fought.

  He’d gone through grueling wars, harsh training, and punishments when he was a young warrior. None of that had prepared him for being so alone that he talked to the computer to hear a response in his own language. Each long night, he sat outside and watched the stars and imagined being back with his fellow Zyrgin warriors, talking about battles, sparring with their swords.

  All that had changed two months ago. While on a scouting mission in the castle of Robert the Brave, Zain’s fortunes had improved. A messenger had announced that Robert the Brave’s intended bride was on her way to their wedding.

  Listening to the baron lament about having to wed a mannish wench a head taller than him, and too clever for a female, Zain had felt hope for the first time in months. When Robert went on to rant about her well-known habit of bathing every day, Zain had known he’d found his breeder.

  Now she was so close, he could run down the mountain and snatch her from her primitive vehicle. Zacar had instructed them to remain hidden, but Zain had given it a lot of thought. There were no recording devices in this primitive century, at the most, the only evidence of his presence would be the tales humans would tell of an undefeatable warrior come to take the lady Melisende.

  Instead of taking her from her primitive conveyance, he’d steal his breeder from Robert the Brave’s castle. Maybe a human called ‘Brave’ would give him a good fight.

  A horse stumbled and Zain surged to his feet. One of the knights who rode alongside the carriage leaned over and grabbed the bridle, and the horses continued their placid walk.

  Zain relaxed and sank down on his haunches again. He’d have to be patient. It would take some time for her to reach the castle with that slow contraption.

  “Melisende,” he said, softly, the way he’d done ever since he’d heard about her from the messenger. A good name, it reminded him of the music the humans called Celtic newcent fusion from the twenty-second century. Every night, when he slept the three hours Zyrgins needed to function at optimum levels, he said her name and his heart ached to do the first knowing with her. He wanted to give her the Eduki pelt, to lie next to her each night. To not be alone anymore.

  At last, several hours later, the procession reached the castle. The guards lowered the drawbridge so that it covered the crudely-dug trench surrounding the castle. Zain camouflaged himself and ran down the mountain.

  The guards stood at attention, but one tried to see inside the carriage. Zain pushed past him and enjoyed the nervous way the human looked around him.

  A soldier snarled at the guard. “Get back to your post.”

  “Someone pushed me, I tell ye,” the hapless guard insisted.

  “I don’t care.”

  The guard went back to his post, a sullen look on his heavily jawed face.

  Zain was eager to see his breeder, but a curtain obscured her from his view.

  He resisted the urge to push the other guard as well, and walked alongside the carriage door as the horses clip-clopped across the bridge and into the dusty, busy courtyard. The horses stopped and Sir Robert and several other humans stepped forward. They looked ridiculous in their tights and colorful, baggy clothes. One of the knights who’d accompanied Melisende dismounted and opened the wooden carriage door.

  Zain held his breath, waiting for the first glimpse of his breeder. A dainty, pale hand took the one the knight offered. Zain clenched his fists against the need to push the humans aside and take her hand. A delicate face emerged, pale and oval, with hair as dark as a Zyrgin midnight sky. She stepped down, and Zain pushed the knight out of his way, and moved to stand next to her, close enough to touch the hand that clutched a book decorated with flowers, against her plain brown dress. She was short. That messenger had lied—she was short, as her head barely came to Zain’s chest. Her eyes were a deep blue, sharp with an intelligence the inferior humans around her lacked.

  The pushed knight frowned and looked around. Sir Robert stepped forward. Another female emerged from the carriage. Zain didn’t even look at her. He’d found his breeder.

  Melisende towered over Sir Robert, who gamely tried to look imposing while gazing up at her.

  Magnificent—she was magnificent and she was his.

  From her beautiful midnight hair, to her round breasts and tiny feet, she was his. Her inferior human dress and the cloth covering her hair couldn’t hide her beauty. She shone bright, while everyone around her faded until they looked like badly reproduced copies of humans.

  Sir Robert slobbered over Melisende’s hand, and Zain glowered at him. The human had long, yellow hair which he touched frequently to draw her attention. Zurian had warned him about human males using their hair in an unbecoming manner to entice a warrior’s breeder. Zain reached out and yanked a lock of the human’s hair, smirking when Sir Robert stumbled back, glaring at the knight behind him.

  The human recovered quickly. “My lady, welcome to my humble castle,” said Robert the Brave, with a strained smile.

  Zain sneered at the human. Robert the Brave. All he did was drink and eat and bed wenches who were as round as they were tall. He wasn’t worthy of a prize like Melisende. It was a good thing Zain was here to take her. She deserved a Zyrgin warrior who would provide a superior dwelling for her. A warrior capable of protecting her.

  “Thank you, Sir Robert.” Melisende took the arm the ugly human male dared hold out to her, to lead her into the hall, where food waited. Zain stood ready to catch her if she fainted from the smell of sweat, anim
als, and urine that mixed with the aroma of bread and meat. In contrast to those around her, she smelled like roses. He opened and closed his hands, extending his claws, resisted the urge to forego the battle and grab her. She belonged in Zain’s arms, not with the human with the ugly yellow hair.

  The unworthy male led her to long tables, laden with yellow food that offended Zain’s eyes. Why would they do that to food? He knew what humans ate by now, and bread and meat weren’t supposed to be bright yellow.

  In the courtyard, everyone sat down on plain, wooden benches that lined each of the tables. Only the table where his breeder and Sir Robert would sit, had crude chairs. Zain tracked Melisende, who clutched the decorated book so hard, her knuckles became white. Her beautiful lips trembled and she firmed them. Sir Robert held her chair and flicked back his hair. Zain was pleased to see that she didn’t seem impressed with Sir Robert or his ugly hair. Maybe she’d prefer a warrior with a bald head and a superior ridge.

  Zain dropped his camouflage. At first, no one noticed him, too focused on the celebrations. Zain walked closer to the long table where Sir Robert and Melisende sat.

  A young woman with red cheeks dropped a tray of crude mugs. The clatter of the mugs hitting the floor mixed with her shrill scream.

  Someone shouted “demon,” another “dragon.” “Grab the children,” rang out over the courtyards. Most of the humans fled the hall to deeper inside the castle. The soldiers stationed, and the knights who’d accompanied his breeder, rushed to surround them. Most of them shook so much, Zain was surprised they didn’t drop their weapons.

  Zain could understand why they called him a demon. It seemed to be a standard response for anything these medieval humans didn’t understand. But dragon? He raised his voice. “I have come to claim Melisende for my bre. . . bride. Will you fight me for her, Sir Robert the Brave?”

  Melisende touched her forehead, chest, and each shoulder. She stared at him with those deep blue eyes that shone like Aurelian jewels. He was a warrior who’d seen many battles. But he felt her gaze like a punch in his gut. She leaned away from him and he pushed his disappointment down. She feared him. His breeder thought him ugly.

  Sir Robert sprang up, reaching for the pathetic sword at his hip. “Be gone from this world, evil being.” He motioned his knights over. “Kill it.” Over his shoulder he screamed, “Bring the priest.”

  Two knights stepped forward. Zain could hear their knees knocking together. He swatted the them away with his bare hands and turned back to the table, where his breeder sat. “I hunted an Eduki for you. You can see I am a warrior of superior skill.”

  Another five knights ran forward, and Zain punched them. They crumpled to the floor. He flexed his muscles and turned back to his breeder. “I made a dwelling for you, superior to this primitive place.”

  Sir Robert wheezed. “Take her, and leave us alone.” Sir Robert wheezed.

  Melisende gasped and kept her head up, but he saw her lips tremble. She clutched the book so tight he feared she’d injure her frail human fingers. She opened her mouth, but Sir Robert spoke first. “Why do you want such a mannish female?”

  Zacar and Zurian had shared much about their human women with the rest of the Zyrgin warriors. Zain had also watched many of the programs they called movies. They had taught him a lot. The way his breeder’s lips trembled meant she was unhappy and would cry.

  “Fight me or keep quiet,” he snarled at the ugly male who’d insulted his breeder and then made those odd motions on his chest with his hand. The man stumbled back.

  “Do not cry, female. I am a superior warrior who will protect you much better than this Aurelian slug with hair.” It was the worst insult he could come up with for the woumber willing to hand Melisende over without a fight.

  She turned to Sir Robert. “You, my lord, are a coward. My family will hear of this, and you will be ruined.” There was something in her voice, something that made Zain think her family cared for her as little as the woumber, Sir Robert.

  Robert the Brave ignored her, and shouted, “Seize him, knights.”

  The soldiers made signs, the same as Melisende had done, and some, clutching crude wooden crosses, rushed to surround him. The instinct rushed over him: that need to battle, to conquer, to kill everyone but Melisende.

  The soldiers screamed, “Be gone, Satan” and “God protect us.” Zain forced back the need to kill them. For conquest and battle.

  Sir Robert suddenly found his courage, and clutching his sword, he leapt over the table.

  Zain disarmed Robert of the long, ugly hair, and punched him. The human fell and Zain hit, kicked, and head-butted the soldiers who rushed him. It would’ve been glorious to fight again—if they were worthy warriors—but he managed to best all of them without even having to draw his sword.

  He turned back to his breeder.

  Around them, the knights moaned and tried to crawl away from him. Zain held out his hand. “Come with me and I will allow them to live.”

  Melisende stared at him with eyes opened wide, but he noticed she surreptitiously took the Baron’s eating knife. She looked from him to the fallen soldiers. Most of the other people had fled when they realized the soldiers couldn’t take him. She trembled, but her beautiful sky eyes flashed fire at him. She lifted her head. “No.”

  Robert the Brave sat up with a groan. “W. . . w. . . what are you?” he stammered.

  “I am the warrior who is worthy of a prize like her,” said Zain.

  More men stormed into the hall, some of them brandishing farm implements. Behind them, a human in a long, brown robe held a large wooden cross in trembling hands. Zain incapacitated them and turned back to his breeder, who looked terrified when he wanted her to be impressed with his skills as a warrior. “Please don’t kill them,” she pleaded.

  He held out his hand again, retracting his claws. “Come with me.”

  She flinched and stared at his hand and then his face. Silence descended over the hall. Even the groans of the men on the ground faded until it was only the two of them locking gazes.

  “Corbleu,” she whispered, and then she ran. Clutching her book to her chest and screaming—a high-pitched, annoying sound—she ran toward a door leading deeper into the castle.

  Zain cut her off, threw her over his shoulder, and ran.

  Chapter Two

  Melisende’s abductor ran faster than she ever thought possible. The shoulder of the being who’d kidnapped her from her own wedding was as hard as a rock. She moaned, from fear or discomfort, she wasn’t sure which.

  Melisende had been three years old when her family banished her to the abbey. Shortly after her arrival, she’d discovered a secret room with shelves full of scrolls. It had opened up a new world to her. Nothing she’d read in that room had prepared her to be abducted by a green devil with eyes so black it looked like a dark night without a moon to shine some light. She didn’t want this summer wedding her family arranged for her, but she wanted to be taken by a demon even less.

  “Are you a demon? Did the devil send you for my soul?” She’d prefer to know her fate, but she’d fight him all the way to hell. Being a person of reason did not mean she was evil and to be condemned.

  “No, I am a Zyrgin warrior. I have honored you by choosing you as my breeder.”

  The landscape blurred around her, and she swallowed.

  It would serve him right if she emptied her stomach on him. He jumped over a boulder, and Melisende moaned when her middle bumped against his shoulder, but at the moment she was more worried about her soul than any physical pain.

  “Sir Robert will come and save me,” she told the demon. Please let Sir Robert come and save me. Her family was allied with the Capets, a royal bloodline that was positioning themselves to take power. Surely Sir Robert needed the alliance enough that he’d come for his too tall intended?

  “Even on horseback that human with his ugly hair cannot overtake a Zyrgin on foot.” His deep and marble gravelly-smooth voice reminded her of the
way the earth sometimes rumbled under the cloister.

  “I suppose your running is so superior you can outrun a horse?”

  “You are correct, my breeder.” She eyed his silver-clad back, tempted to hit him. Obviously, sarcasm was wasted on this demon. His shoulder continued to bump into her middle with each excruciating move. She roughly calculated the demon’s height, and measured the shadow and the length of his footsteps, and came to the uneasy conclusion that he might indeed outrun the Baron’s horse. Her silver cross slapped against her cheek and she clutched it in her fist, yanking the chain attached to it over her head.

  “What are you doing, human?” His voice, deep and rough, made her insides quiver. If it wasn’t attached to a hideous-looking demon, she’d have thought he had a voice that could cause an angel to weep.

  “Nothing.” She pressed the cross flat against his back and prayed with every ounce of faith she possessed. Maybe if it touched him, he’d burn and drop her.

  The demon kept running, and she slapped his back in frustration. Melisende froze, but instead of hitting her back, he moved faster. The sound of horses thundering over the earth reached her and she could’ve cried. Maybe she’d be saved this day, after all. She turned her head, trying to see their pursuers.

  Robert the Brave sat forward in the saddle, determination clear in the way he focused on Melisende. He may not want to marry her, but he showed honor in the way he pursued them. Even after the demon had soundly trounced him. She’d seen his face when he first saw her. Sir Robert probably wanted to keep the alliance with her family more than he wanted her back.

  The sound of the horses pursuing them faded. Melisende pressed her hands against the broad back of the creature and lifted her head. As she feared, the demon was slowly leaving the horses behind.

  “Ride faster, you fools. He is on foot and getting away from you,” she shouted as loud as she could manage.