The Triumphant Return

by N M Zoltack

  “I don’t think you will,” Rase said, as calm as ever. “You see… What will your peers think if they learn that you impregnated a peasant girl after you injured her?”

  Radcliff waved his hand. “There are times when nobles will, ah, frolic with the peasants, but that is by no means—”

  “She died,” Rase said flatly, “because you threw her out. You threw them both out, her and the baby, and they both died.”

  The earl’s son inhaled deeply. “If you think—”

  “If you wish me to tell no one about your role in her death, then you will give me—”

  The nobleman threw back his head and roared with laughter right in Rase’s face. “I will give you nothing,” he hisses.

  “No?” Rase smirked. “I should warn you that I have friends you won’t like.”

  Radcliff’s face turned purple with rage. “Get out!”

  Rase eyed the nobleman down despite being much shorter than him. He maintained eye contact until he reached the stable doors. Then, he strolled away, smirking.

  He hadn’t lied to Radcliff. Rase had gained enemies, yes, through his blackmailing efforts, but he had also acquired friends. Even if he hadn’t, Rase was certain he could find other peasants Radcliff had ruined who would be all too willing to have their own revenge on him.

  Once the Snell manor was far behind him, Rase began to whistle. His belly might be empty, but at least he had moved east forward with his plan.

  10

  Cateline Locke

  The Vincanans exchanged glances and sly smiles that churned Vivian’s stomach. They were going to use the inhabitants’ anger toward Tenoch and Atlan Castle to turn them against the crown, against Rosalynne. She just knew it.

  “You are hungry,” Cicero said simply.

  “Yes,” the man in the headdress snapped. “Do you not see how few birds there are?”

  Vivian stifled a gasp. If the hundreds of birds she could see in every direction of the island were fewer than the norm, why, Zola island must be overwhelmed and overrun by the birds on a typical day!

  Overrun or overflown and overperched.

  "The tides are bringing in fewer and fewer fish. We have next to nothing to eat," a native woman speaks for the first time. Her face paint is blue, a hand covering her face and coloring her lids and even parts of her eyelids. Her long, light blond hair was twisted into at least twenty braids.

  “Why not eat the—”

  “Do you not have ships?” Vivian blurted to silence Domitia. “Tiapan is not far at all from here. They will have food.”

  Domitia turned toward Vivian, her fist raised, but Valentina huffed. “They consider birds to be sacred creatures,” she muttered so only the Vincanans could overhear her. “Don’t be so ignorant.”

  “Forgive me,” Domitia murmured angrily. “I was too busy studying the spear and every other weapon plus learning how to sail to be bothered with learning every detail about every island!”

  She cast a glare at Vivian, who gulped. The last thing the former princess could do was draw attention to herself, and perhaps she should have allowed the Vincanan to insult the natives. Then, they certainly would not agree to fight against Tenoch.

  But, yes, those on Zola worshiped birds, believing them to be miniature dragons.

  “We have lived on this island since the dragons flew above,” the man with the headdress said, arcing his arm toward the skies. “Thus far, we have appeased the Fates and lived in peace and prosperity. It is only the last few months that we have gone without, and we cannot last much longer.”

  “I understand,” Julius said. He was one smooth talker, his hair cut almost to his scalp. “We can promise you this. We will provide you all with food and weapons if you will fight against the people of Tenoch.”

  The man in the headdress eyed Domitia. “You asked if Tenoch has abandoned us. Who are you if you are not from Tenoch?”

  “We’re from farther south,” she answered.

  “Vincana. Ah, yes, your armor should have made that clear.”

  Vivian lifted her eyebrows. Word of the famous Vincanan warriors had reached even Zola?

  The man turned to his people and began to converse with them too quietly to be overheard. The other smaller group crossed over to join them.

  A bird caught Vivian’s eye. The tiny winged creature fluttered and then landed not on a rock but the outstretched hand of a boy maybe her age. She was nearly sixteen herself, well, fifteen and a half, and it pained her to recall her years as Noll would never turn sixteen.

  She closed her eyes to help wrestle control of her emotions. When she opened them, she watched the young man pet the bird’s head. The bird was a shocking shade of blue, almost identical to the sky above them. The young man had light hair, light eyes, his clothing tan, his face paint minimal compared to the adults.

  The Vincanans began to talk in hushed tones themselves, and Vivian abandoned them, slipping ever closer to the young man. He took no notice of her until she accidentally kicked a stone and set it tumbling on the sand.

  He eyed her critically. “You don’t belong here.”

  “And you don’t belong fighting in Tenoch.” She tilted her head to the side. “Do you even know how to fight, how to use a weapon?”

  His lips curl into an easy smile despite his harsh words a moment ago. “I can spear a fish that’s two leagues away.”

  “Wow, that’s very impressive,” she murmured. Clearly, his measurement for leagues must be different from those who sail the Vincanans’ ships.

  “Can you fight?” he asked, lifting his chin.

  “I can, but I don’t want to.”

  “You don’t? I’m guessing Vincana wants to be free from Tenoch. I wish we could be free, but we do need help. I’ve been asking about Tiapan. I heard you asking about the other island.”

  “Maybe you and Tiapan can help each other somehow,” she suggested eagerly. “Barter. Give them fish—”

  “We have nothing to barter. The fish aren’t within four leagues of the island now. Something’s happening to them.”

  Vivian fell silent. The presence of a wraith. The island of Xalac being uninhabited. The fish surrounding Zola. The war.

  Maybe the people did need dragons.

  “Those in power over Vincana do not wish to free the world,” Vivian murmured. “They only seek to take control of all of Dragoona as… as Jankin Rivera had.”

  The young man said nothing for a moment. “Do you know how to skip stones?”

  She blinked in surprise. “Yes,” she said, suppressing a wince, “but I’m not very good at it.”

  Noll had loved to skip stones. He’d tried to teach her, but they were both terrible at it. The prince, however, had gained some skill over time. With practice, could he have learned to shoot a bow and arrow well with Ulric as his mentor?

  Her stomach clenched as the native waved for her to follow. She complied, and he brought her away from the groups and town and to the water’s edge. A fair amount of smooth stones lined the sandy beach, and she selected three.

  His first stone skipped an amazing seven times.

  She dropped hers. “I’m not playing.”

  He laughed. “You never proved you can fight, and now, you won’t skip stones.”

  “I already told you I’m not good at it!”

  “Just try.” He placed a stone in her hand.

  With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the stone. One, two, three, it plopped into the water.

  “Not terrible,” he said.

  "Not great, either."

  He beamed. “I’m Temur.”

  “Vi—Cateline,” she recovered. “Cateline.”

  “Are all of the others as nice as you?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the cluster of Vincanans.

  “No,” she said flatly.

  Temur laughed, the sound joyous. He had so little, and yet he could find happiness. Vivian was jealous.

  “I didn’t think you were like the others. You’re different.” />
  “How so?” she asked, careful to keep a light tone.

  “You just are.” He shrugged and handed her another stone.

  She pressed it from one palm to the other. If she had been born a native to the isle, she was certain they would have become fierce friends, and she did not want him to die, especially since the war was a power struggle between two titans that could doom the entire world of Dragoona.

  “Temur, don’t fight,” she murmured.

  He said nothing and skipped another stone.

  “You should stand up and tell your people that they shouldn’t. I’ll… I’ll find a way for you to get food, whether it’s from Tiapan or Tenoch or… or Vincana.”

  “Vincana will only give us food if we fight,” he remarked.

  “If they truly have Zola Isle’s best interests at heart, they will send food regardless,” she said.

  Temur said nothing, and they skipped stones in silence. Even if his skipped only five times, she still could not out-skip him, and they giggled and had fun, which soon made Vivian feel rather guilty. Her people were at war, were dying. Her father, Noll, and Bates had all died. When she returned home, who else would have been burned whom she loved and cared about?

  Please, Fates, I know I do not pray often, but keep my sister alive. Death, do not claim her. Her time is not now and not for a long, long while.

  At least, Vivian hoped that to be the case.

  11

  Councilmember Greta Grantham

  The days dragged on, and the lack of battles displeased Greta greatly. Why couldn't their guards and spies be more vigilante? Why hadn't the Vincanans been discovered already? The lot of them should be slaughtered in their sleep for all Greta cared, slaughtered and then sent back to Vincanan in their ships.

  What was the point of power if one did not use it to one's advantage? Both queens were struggling with this most crucial point. Rosalynne had withdrawn into herself again as she had after her father's death and her brother's, but Greta did not know why. As for Sabine, well, Greta should perhaps go and see her for another one of their talks. Greta knew her daughter hated them, but if Sabine would just step up and be the queen Tenoch Proper needed, none of this would have happened. She should have convinced one of the Vincanans to marry her and had the ceremony immediately, but no, one had to die.

  And in Rosalynne's arms. When the younger queen wasn't overly involved in her grief, she actually could be just as shrewd as Sabine. If only it were possible to have her dispatched of already! But the number of guards watching the queens lately had grown so much that the chances of a hired killer going undetected were unlikely, and if he weren't executed immediately, he would have the chance to talk. Dying men had a habit of telling the truth even when others did not wish to know the details. Her husband had confessed to sins on their deathbeds. Both of her husbands actually.

  Sitting in a high-backed chair in one of the castle’s many parlors, Greta waited impatiently. She had sent Eldric to fetch Aldus. Greta wished to speak to the advisor. Most certainly, the advisor could not be trusted, given that he was playing with both queens and sleeping with one of them, but he did know just about everything. As much as Greta had her network of spies, it never hurt to have the information confirmed.

  Tiberius entered the room, and Greta stared down the man standing against the wall until the girl had enough sense to leave.

  Once they were alone, the guard approached and nodded deeply.

  “You bring news?”

  "Sometimes, news comes from the most interesting of places."

  “Well, what is it?” Greta asked dryly. In her experience, when males tried to build up news, the news itself often proved to be lackluster at best.

  “A maid was there when Bates died.”

  “The baby that wasn’t the king’s,” she said, hoping this wasn’t the intelligence he wished to impart. “What of it?”

  “The king took exception to that far more than anyone and everyone ever expected.”

  She lifted her eyebrows, her impatient growing as well as her curiosity.

  “He killed the baby,” Tiberius murmured even though no one was could possibly overhear them.

  “Did he now? And this maid witnessed the act?”

  “She did,” he confirmed.

  “Her name?”

  “Johanne.”

  “I will like to speak with her tomorrow,” Greta said.

  “I can arrange that.” Tiberius bowed.

  “Good. Dismissed.” She purposely waited until he had almost left the room to add, “You did well.”

  The guard turned and bowed again before leaving her to her thoughts.

  Hmm. How best could she use this information? A discussion with the main would make it quite clear if she were telling the truth, but what would she gain from lying? Unless she herself had been the one to kill the babe and sought someone who would not defend himself to take the fall in her stead.

  But, no, the king killing the babe made far too much sense.

  At least Tiberius had uncovered something worthwhile. Thus far, Piers Chatelain had learned nothing about Sabine. Greta was no fool. Her daughter did not confide everything with her.

  A knock sounded at the open doorway, and Greta smiled at the advisor.

  “Aldus, thank you for coming.”

  He bowed to her before claiming the seat across from her. “How could I deny the mother of the queen?”

  “One of the queens,” Greta said, doing her best to hide her crossness.

  “What is it you need of me?” he asked.

  Greta paused, reflecting. This news about the king and the babe when combined with Rosalynne’s melancholy… Yes. Rosalynne might well know of this. For the time being, it seemed as if the younger queen might not be an issue.

  But the Vincanans very much remained one.

  “We need to plan an attack to keep the Vincanans away from the castle,” she said firmly.

  “I agree, and I have some thoughts on that matter…”

  12

  Sir Edmund Hill

  The information Edmund had learned—that the Vincanans wished to create Vincana Proper and quickly at that—did not seem to warrant abandoning his quest. For all Edmund knew, the queens and their advisors might already know this information. It wasn’t as if this knowledge was something they could act upon.

  “I hope you’re right about this,” Tatum murmured.

  Yes, his sister-who-wasn’t-his-sister refused to leave his side, and as much as he would be loathed to admit it, Edmund was grateful for the companionship, especially hers.

  All the more reason why he should send her away.

  But he was a man, and he was weak, and he could not bring himself to ask her to leave again.

  “I am,” he insisted.

  For a few days now, they had been scouring the land to hunt down another group of Vincanans. Every morning, Tatum made a comment that suggested she thought they should return to the castle.

  "Why do you not trust my judgment?" he asked.

  “It’s not a matter of trust,” she said simply.

  “Are you worried I cannot keep you safe?” he asked.

  “I can keep myself safe,” she snapped.

  “Then, why? You have not given a strong enough or convincing argument for us to return.”

  Tatum had no retort, and they pressed onward, always hiding as best as they could. It plagued Edmund that so few people were walking and traveling throughout the countryside. Normally, the gravel trails would be filled with wagons and carts. Perhaps he should take comfort that families were not fleeing, although by now, it was quite possible that most had already. Where would they go, though? Winter was nearly upon them. That should complicate matters for the Vincanans, but for any family trying to relocate, snow and ice would inhibit their movements, and he feared many would freeze to death.

  It was well into the afternoon when Edmund spied the clear signs of a covered-up fire. He stared hard at the grass to determine whe
re it had been bent by a boot rather than an animal. Without a word, he took off in that direction.

  An hour later, they found the Vincanans. Edmund immediately recognized a man as the fierce and valiant fighter he had engaged when the Vincanans had first arrived.

  Tatum handed Edmund the same potion as before. He gulped it down, grimaced, and waited for it to take effect.

  He had just learned that the man’s name was Marcellus, which struck him as familiar, when a horrifically deafening gurgle sounded beside him. He stared at Tatum in horror. She was being far too loud and…

  And she was vomiting violently.

  He rubbed her back and held her hair back. She was huddled over, almost squatting, and she trembled as she used a leaf to wipe her mouth.

  “Are you sick?” he asked, worried.

  “No, no. It’s not… I’m not sick.”

  “Healthy people vomit all the time,” he said dryly.

  She stared at him without blinking. “I’m not sick,” she repeated. “I’m with child.”

  “You… You’re…” Edmund shook his head. “Dudley never told me.”

  “Perhaps because he does not know.” She smiled wanly.

  “Whyever not? Why haven’t you told him?”

  “All he’s worried about is the inn,” she murmured.

  Edmund gnashed his teeth together. If his wife were pregnant, he would do anything and everything for her. He would not want to leave her side even to do his duty.

  “I never thought…” Tatum hung her head.

  “You never thought what?” Edmund asked gently. He wished he could give her a hug, but he feared consoling her wasn’t his place.

  “I never thought he would put his dreams so high above me. It’s as if he doesn’t even see me anymore,” she mumbled. “I know I’ve been distant. I’ve been so busy, trying to do everything I can for Tenoch Proper, and for the crown. I just… I just want someone to appreciate me.”

  “I do,” he said honestly.