by M. D. Grimm
Viljar sat back and set the stone aside. He was alternately disappointed and pleased with recent events. It was always foolish to think no plan ever had a hitch, and he was not a fool. He always planned for alternative measures, anticipating the failure of his pawns. Ulfr had always been a little too reckless for his tastes, and his obsession with Scourge had led to his downfall. An event that Viljar had predicted. Yet while Scourge and Ulfr lasted, they did much to spread fear and chaos. And now Scourge would continue to inflict chaos, simply by being who he was, and without a master to control him.
Viljar leaned over the bowl of water again and placed the stone inside. He said the sacred word and one of his daughter’s names. He didn’t have to wait long for Aslog to answer. She had similar coloring to Ylva and her mother, but her hair wasn’t as flaming red. It was a deep, blood red.
“Father? What can I do for you?”
“Has a messenger arrived for the queen from Lord Semsey?”
“Not that I am aware.”
“Pay special attention if one does. Or make sure you’re in the room if he should contact her by seer stone.” He relayed the events that Ylva told him about, and Aslog nodded when she received his orders.
“Consider it done.”
He smiled. “I already do.”
Aslog gave him a pleased smile. He removed the stone to disconnect, only to place it back and call his wife.
Lady Dagmara, Countess of Jorvikr, never failed to stir his blood. Even after all these years and three children, his wife was as enchanting and strikingly beautiful and deadly as she’d always been. Ylva favored her heavily. His wife was a shieldmaiden of the highest order and more ruthless than any he’d come across.
“My dear,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow and said in Nord, “And you disturb my peace, why?”
He grinned at her bite and also answered in their native tongue. “I wish to know how the situation at the wall is faring. Have the horde attacked recently?”
“No. They seem to be either licking their wounds or biding their time.”
“Any progress with the queen?”
Dagmara’s mouth twisted. “Gunrun is a fool. She still wants peace with the beasts. Instead of wiping them out and confiscating the forests, she wants to make alliances and treaties.”
“I have wondered if that was her intent for some time. It appears she’s finally made her true opinions known. I wonder why that is. I thought the emperor was determined to expand Swenen farther north.”
“As did I. Perhaps you can ask him while you’re there.”
“I plan to do just that.” He paused. “How is Calantha coming in her studies?”
“She’s slower than her sisters. Doesn’t have the taste for blood yet. I’m sure she will in time.” Dagmara shrugged. “She was always the one left behind. Late bloomer, as my father would say.”
“I have every confidence that she will soon impress us with skills equal to her sisters.”
“Gods willing. I don’t want to consider that I’ve wasted my womb on a runt.”
Viljar chuckled. “I love you dearly, darling.”
“I don’t hate you as much as the rest.”
Her lashing tongue never failed to make him laugh. She smirked at his mirth and was the one to remove the stone, disconnecting. There was nothing soft about his beloved wife, and her cold hardness never failed to stoke his desire.
Now that he’d confirmed the many arms of his enterprise were functioning properly, he removed the seer stone and stood. He stretched and wondered why the emperor had yet to send for him. How long must he linger in the Hill of Tarran before Gaiuss saw him? They had much to discuss.
When his manservant, Njall, interrupted his reading an hour later to announce a visitor, Viljar wondered at it. It was late and certainly His Imperial Majesty wouldn’t condescend to visit an earl’s manor.
“Who is it?” Viljar asked as he set aside his book.
“His Grace, the Duke of Menelaus.”
“Send him up.”
It wasn’t long before Menelaus, one of the official advisors to the emperor, swaggered into his study. Njall closed the door behind him.
“Wine?”
“Yes, please.”
They shared a glass of wine before Viljar broke the silence.
“Why are you here?”
“I thought you’d might like to know why the emperor has yet to see you.”
Viljar frowned. “Explain.”
Menelaus set his glass down with a snap, appearing fidgety and anxious. “It appears he has something contagious. He’s bedridden right now. No one is allowed to see him except for the empress and the royal healer.”
Despite his surprise—there hadn’t been an outbreak of disease for a couple of generations—Viljar expressed nothing. “Have you spoken to the royal healer personally? Has he or the empress said what he contracted?”
“I have not heard a word from Egnatius. The empress told us that the emperor named her regent and Egnatius confirms it. She’s now dictating to us his orders.” Menelaus sneered. “Instead of naming either me or one of his other advisors as regent, he chose his broodmare. It’s insulting to take commands from a woman, even if they are from him.”
Viljar turned away, disturbed by the news. If the emperor died, then that would leave the empress in a precarious position. Her son was too young to assume the throne, and it would be a fight for her if she wanted to act in his stead until he came of age. The advisors would certainly push for themselves to be named co-rulers until the boy was old enough. But Empress Aurelia was a strong woman, and she wouldn’t acquiesce so quickly.
He had nothing personal against her, however she had always stood in his way of expansion to the north. She had always advised her husband against such a move. She was an obstacle he had to remove somehow. Yet he couldn’t be hasty. He had to monitor the situation before he made any move against her. The emperor could recover from whatever ailed him at any time.
He couldn’t shake the suspicion, however, that there was certainly more to this situation than what the empress or the royal healer were saying. If he were in their position, he wouldn’t say much either.
“When did this occur?” he asked. “When was the emperor isolated?”
“A little over a month.”
“Let us wait and see what happens.”
“Wait? For what? How do we know that he isn’t dead already? We should demand proof.”
“Do nothing.” Viljar spun around and pinned Menelaus with a glare. Despite his only being an earl, and Menelaus a duke, his companion withered slightly under his stare.
“You will not jeopardize all I have built with your hasty ambitions and childish resentments. Do not underestimate the empress because she is a woman. I have it on good authority that women are oftentimes more devious and far more intelligent than men. Have a care you do not have yourself removed from your standing. I need you right where you are, at her right hand. I will stay here at the Hill for a time. Go back to your duties and keep me appraised.”
Menelaus mumbled something before nodding. He spun on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him like a child.
Viljar rolled his eyes. If he didn’t have to use such tiresome pawns, he’d have more energy. Pondering over the recent events, he sat and picked up his book again. Very interesting. Scourge loose, the emperor bedridden, and the horde quiet.
Certainly, the gods must have a hand in this. He would just have to wait and see. Good thing he’d always been a patient man.
###
Glossary
Apys
Capital city of Cairon; seat of royal court of Queen Cleptra and Queen Sifus.
Cairon
Southern kingdom of the Nifdem Empire.
Cairon earls/patrons of Thebys
Lord Semsey (cousin of Queen Cleptra) and Lord Khepi.
Cairon queens
Queen Cleptra (native of Cairon) and Queen Sifus (from Swenen).
H
ill of Tarran
Capital city of the Nifdem Empire; seat of imperial court of the emperor and empress.
Nifdem Empire
Large empire comprising the three kingdoms of Swenen (north), Grekenus (west), and Cairon (south).
Thebys
Prosperous town in Cairon; hometown of Gust.
Cairon gods
Anknet
Two-faced goddess of healers, transitions, and prepper for dead; stuck between life and death, guide for the dead; daughter of Ysys and Snet.
Batsa
Goddess and guardian of animals; ruler of animals, domestic and wild; progenitor of divine animals; often symbolized by horses.
Drska
Goddess of creative/artistic works; patron goddess of minstrels and blacksmiths.
Hoksys
God and guardian of earthly realm, balance, and royal leaders; represents light and sun; fertility of land.
Mawn
Goddess and Devourer of Souls; weighs soul of the dead against Ysys’s feather, and decides their eternal fate.
Net
Demi-goddess daughter of Ysys and creator of the Nifdem Empire.
Osys
God of death, Keeper of Dead, Lord of Underworld; husband of Ysys; father of Hoksys.
Snet
God of chaos, destruction, imbalance, and unchecked warmongering; represents negative parts of life; sire of the great serpent Appep, and father of Anknet.
Ysys
Goddess of life, love, union, birth, and fertility; heavens are her domain; wife of Osys; mother of Hoksys, Anknet, and the demi-goddess Net.
About This Book
I developed the concept for this story years ago. In 2010, according to my original outline document. Though, funny story, I actually thought I had lost that doc when I decided I wanted to dust off some old ideas and see if I could produce something with them. I still had the general outline in my head, and then it morphed into what you hold in your hand. Very different from my initial idea. That’s a good thing. The original didn’t have the same heart as this version, and the characters of Lance and Gust were phenomenally different. They feel more like my characters than they did before, as do all the supporting characters. I’m very proud of what I have produced.
The concept of a warrior seeking redemption was inspired by one of my favorite shows in the 1990s (and still top 10 on my list), the campy, action-packed, I-am-woman-hear-me-roar show, “Xena: Warrior Princess.”
Yep. No lie.
And each of the books in this trilogy are individually inspired by a particular episode in the first and second seasons. For “Healing Lance,” the inspiration is from the pilot episode, “Sins of the Past” (naturally). Xena decides to leave behind her warrior ways but has to fight to save a bunch of girls being kidnapped into slavery. It’s there she makes the acquaintance of Gabrielle, her future traveling partner, friend, biographer and, according to some fans, her lover. Then the warlord who wanted the girl slaves, a man from Xena’s past, comes to her home town, and she duels him to safeguard everyone.
I took the general storyline and ran with it.
Although the idea of the gauntlet that Lance is forced to go through is from one of the first episodes to feature Xena, in the “Hercules: The Legendary Journeys” show. The trilogy certainly has the trappings of the episodes that inspired it but the rest of the storylines are all me.
The mythology throughout the trilogy is also based off our own world’s mythology. For Cairon, Gust’s home kingdom, I chose to emulate Egyptian mythology with a few of my own original ideas thrown in. To my mind, mythology gives a fantasy world gravitas, a sense of realism. At first, I attempted to create my own mythology but I couldn’t sustain it, and it didn’t feel real. So, I borrowed from those I’m most passionate about, and knew the most about. Doing so allowed me to envision each kingdom on their own, and then how they collectively formed the Nifdem Empire. I wanted to do each kingdom justice and give them their own feel, image, and culture. Whether I accomplished that or not is up to you.
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Lance and Gust’s journey, and I truly hope you will join me for the rest! I have a bunch of things in store for these guys that I’ve fallen in love with.
Excerpt from Forgiving Lance
Gust knelt and carefully cut the stems of the haethorn plant. Despite most considering it a weed, any worthy healer knew its medicinal properties. When boiled correctly and mixed with a few other herbs, it turned into a paste that blocked infection from open wounds. He was nearly out of his supply and thanked the gods for the haethorn’s bright orange coloring.
“Are you done yet?”
Gust didn’t bother to sigh. Without looking away from his task, he said, “Patience is a virtue, Lance. You promised that we would stop whenever I spotted healing herbs, and I promised to let you drag my ass over this entire bloody empire. That was our deal.”
“I know. But how long does it take to plunk up special weeds?”
Gust flicked his gaze over. Lance squirmed not far from him, his expression one of a sulky child. Brutus, Lance’s loyal war stallion, paced behind his rider and snorted in similar agitation.
What a pair they made.
“Which one of us is the healer?”
Somehow Lance managed to sulk harder and stomped away, grumbling under his breath. Gust shook his head and continued his cutting. Lance was like a dog with a bone, which wasn’t any wonder considering they’d been tracking Ulfr’s warriors since leaving Thebys. Lance maintained enviable single-minded focus on routing all his former comrades and putting them to the sword. However, that also made him impatient and grumpy when Gust insisted on the little things like breaks, food, and sleep, in addition to the occasional stop when he found any healing herbs. Or stops into villages to visit apothecaries for supplies he couldn’t find in the wild. Although Gust had to admit, at least to himself, that he was dawdling with the haethorn leaf on purpose.
The last warrior Lance went up against got lucky and sliced his blade along Lance’s ribs. It was a shallow wound and painful despite Lance’s denial. Gust then effectively concluded the fight by shooting an arrow through his throat. Then he was forced to deal with Lance’s yelling, his anger not helping his injury in the least. Gust had wanted to heave after taking another life. Instead he’d given extra tribute to the next Anknet shrine they came across.
Lance wanted to personally slaughter every single one of Ulfr’s warriors, and Gust wasn’t allowed to interfere. Stubborn ass. Lance was as skilled as Hoksys, the guardian of light himself, with a blade, and yet he was still mortal, and he could still bleed. Gust wasn’t going to lose his friend. Not if he could prevent it.
“You’re still angry with me,” he said softly as he rose.
Lance stilled, his back to Gust, and sighed. “Aye.”
“He could have wounded you worse. What was I supposed to do? Stand there wringing my hands? Ever known me to do that?”
Lance shook his head.
“Look at me.”
With visible reluctance, Lance turned around, his blond brows knit in worry and agitation. Gust moved closer and laid a gentle hand on his cheek. They’d long ago grown comfortable with touching each other. Lance wasn’t accustomed to gentleness, having been trained into a weapon since childhood, enduring pain and humiliation most of his life. For that reason, Gust knew Lance cherished every touch and hug and occasional kiss on the cheek that Gust gave him. For Gust, touching Lance in a friendly, affectionate fashion helped soothe his own deep desires.
He loved Lance as a friend. He also desired Lance as a lover. It troubled him that the longer he was with Lance, the more that love and desire started to change form, becoming deeper, more vital. He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he was falling in love with Lance. It wasn’t something he could deny either.
Gust’s dark skin contrasted starkly with Lance’s fairness, and Lance’s honey blond hair was long and loose, trailing down to the middle of his bac
k. The stubble around his mouth was a slightly darker blond than his hair. He shaved irregularly and Gust started to like the look of stubble and beard. Without it, he was far too pretty. The facial hair also hid a few of his faint scars, ones received in his younger years with Ulfr. Yet when Lance had his hair pulled back as it was now, the old, faint half circle scar on the side of his face that began at his temple and reached down to his chin, was noticeable.
Gust’s own hair was long and twined into multiple braids, a few strands decorated with beads, that he often pulled back in a tail to keep out of his face. It was the custom of his people, and he cherished every small part of them that he could carry. He didn’t know when or if he would see his home again.
Lance’s expression softened at Gust’s touch, and he covered Gust’s hand with his own.
“I promised to protect you,” he said.
Gust smiled. “Aye, you did and you are. I also promised to protect you. I didn’t argue when you wanted to take on every single warrior by yourself, did I?”
Lance shook his head.
“So don’t argue with me when I deem a situation is in need of my help. I have your back. That’s why I’m here. You can’t redeem yourself if you’re dead.”
Tension seemed to melt out of Lance, and he leaned forward to place his head on Gust’s shoulder. Gust smiled and patted the back of his head, fingers brushing over his soft hair. He hoped Lance was finally listening to him. Understanding him.