Lanico gave a reassuring smile. “It will be okay, Felena. Your Freck will be fine. I just need a moment to assess him, and then we’ll know just what to do.” She didn’t move. “Please, I know you’re frightened, but walk with Treva, Anah, and Marin for a little while I figure this out.”
The incredulous look on her face read, “Figure what out?” but she obeyed her King and after a few weighted seconds, walked off with Treva, Anah, and Marin beyond the trees and toward the crowd on the horizon. It was where Gish had been resting. He had been fighting his own wounds—wounds that had since been treated with linen and ointments. It took yards of linen to wrap tightly around that massive middle of his, to secure his ribs. Once told about it while they jogged the short distance here, Lanico had considered assisting the Mysra hero, but Freck’s was a more urgent healing need. Lanico found a slight comfort knowing that Gish’s wounds were of the flesh. That he would heal the Mysra later. Freck’s, however, were a festering poison that if left untreated would be fatal in a matter of hours. His suffering had become so severe that his agonized groaning could be heard from afar, sending curious glances from the trees beyond.
Lanico summoned tranquility. He had used much of his power fighting, and then his body was also still regenerating its own healing. Now, he was attempting to heal young Freck with what he had left of his own energy—but surprisingly he still felt energized. It was pleasantly odd. Perhaps it has something to do with what happened before I dispatched Grude? He considered briefly.
He lowered to the sickly wound. The inky black veins over the deep sickly yellow-bronze of Freck’s skin. Due to the power of the poison, it was on the verge of festering already! He needed to act fast. He determined that this was to be a different healing from Treva’s and certainly from the young Marin’s gashes and bruises. This was to be a healing of blood and muscle.
They were hidden from view beyond the sparse trees and distant throngs of WynSprigns on the horizon, so Lanico leaned in low. Freck made another groan that became a shrill cry. Lanico inhaled, fighting off his own sorrow and anger at seeing poor Freck in such a state. Anger toward his Fray aunt, Jaspia. Had it not been for her and her reckless creations, none of this would have happened. None of it. And then, Lanico’s mind turned, pondering Grude’s final words. Why had there been so many Mysra? What else had been going on?
The endless supply of Mysra warriors.
Though he was furious, there was something else. Perhaps a thankfulness that glimmered from the depths of this wreckage. The tendrils of life that he tried to explain to Freck all that time ago. Without the circumstances there would have never been Mysra to fight off all those years. The need to expand their forces would have never led to his meeting Treva. And there was Gish, his own gentle giant, enamored with horses and small creatures—his battered spirit now healing. He took in another breath of air—this one was refreshing and full of hope.
He relaxed. He felt for the low drumming of his heart, for the droning of power, of light that dwelled within him—somehow coursing stronger. He closed his eyes and felt that familiar golden glow of power rise from his core and lift, lighting through his arms, his hands, and then his fingertips. Yes. He previously chose not to tell Treva that he could actually heal with his hands and instead chose to heal her in the more intimate fashion. With his lips.
Golden wisps and curls of soft light emanated from his fingertips as they gently touched the young warrior’s wound.
Chapter 31
Insubordination
It took hours. The dead from within the castle were moved, with effort, to the base of the castle. One by one they were piled together and the large bloodied heap was ignited. The work as King was immediate. It hadn’t ceased, and he knew it would be this way for some time to come. He accepted it, gladly even.
With assistance from others, Lanico was bringing another dead Mysra to the pile, in pieces as he had learned to do. This one had been slain by Freck, or possibly Felena. His corpse was found near the center of the encampment. Freck was helping, as much as able. Felena was helping alongside him. Lanico noticed the way he looked at Felena. Young love. He was most pleased to see the healthy copper tone had returned to Freck, as well as the characteristic mischievous gleam in his eyes. Lanico’s healing had aided the young man greatly. He was certain that young Freck would be without that slight limp and bandage in at least in a few days’ time. He swore Freck to secrecy regarding his healing powers. Later, when asked about how Freck had improved so quickly, Freck gave Felena a mundane excuse. It was Lanico’s secret to tell, and he would explain this to his most trusted when the time was appropriate. In all fairness, Lanico himself didn’t fully understand his powers. It was curious that this time his healing had not drained his energy as it would have previously. He was still able to heal Gish in secrecy as well. The thought still prickled his mind, Could my continued energy be from what took place earlier? Since he’d killed that last Mysra he knew he should have felt more exhausted then, and even right now, than he actually did. He’d wait for the answers to his many questions. He’d plan to ask his ama, Fray Greta, when they next met. Prior to these months, he’d only ever healed Marin’s bruises and prior to that, as a young man, small wounded animals and birds.
Former castle worker, Lika, greeted him here at the blazing pile. Despite her locks of cotton-white, and the deeply set wrinkles, he recognized her from before and was absolutely elated to see her again. She, like other former castle workers, had been approaching him throughout the early evening, looking to renew their former stations in the castle and were ready to begin normalcy.
She beseeched him, asking what help she could offer since she wasn’t keen on helping with the bodies or the gore—not that he blamed her. He was thankful for her offer and asked that she prepare hot baths, fresh clothes, and a pot of hot Dew Tea. She looked at him curiously, and then remembered emerald-haired Treva. She gave an amused smile, bowed slightly, and strode off to the castle to begin her tasks.
Lanico returned to work, finishing up for the evening. There’d be more work tomorrow. There was much to be done with rebuilding, cleaning, reorganization—and that was just the castle. The entire kingdom was to be rebuilt and reorganized as well. But now, he longed to stop and rest. It was with thanks to his Fray heritage that the gash in his chest knitted closed already, but it was still sore. Over the years, his own body’s healing had been something of an unfolding enigma. Surely, he still had scars. His body, though it seemed, healed most scars, but some remained. It was somehow oddly personal. As if his mind and body determined the scars that would remain. If it hadn’t been for that, he determined his whole body would have been riddled with them by now.
It had been a long and even the sun had since retired beyond the ridge. The falling of night had ushered in the approaching cool. He hadn’t seen much of Treva for the past few hours, not since they had all taken a break to eat the gruel and rolls that were served. It wasn’t a pleasant meal at all, but with little resources at the moment, they ate and were grateful for the sustenance. It was the meal the slaves were to have that day. Lanico was stunned that they, including his beloved, had to eat that tasteless slop daily. He only had to have it once and was thankful he and his subjects would never have to have it again.
Or that was until their food reserves could be figured out. He thought about this to himself. There was much work and organization ahead of them all. All had been busy at various tasks. Finding reorganization, order. Treva had been an active member of his, helping to clear the way for a tomorrow. Lanico stared into the flames as another fallen Mysra was added to the pile. That’s when he saw her. On the other side of the large pyre, he caught her gaze.
She was there. Waiting.
He recognized her instantly, even without the sun’s illumination. There, at the fire, the golden glow of the flame enhanced her sharp features, rounded curves, and muscles. Beautiful. Treva really was glowing. Enchanting.
For some reason, he felt nervous. He
ignored his rapid pulse and ambled around close to her. His side nudged hers. She shot him a playful glance. His teeth glinted in the firelight. His smile reduced slightly. “Our castle awaits,” he said, using their shared connection. “Ready…to go home?” he said low.
His smile, the tone of his voice, the way the firelight caught his roguish grin—her heart fluttered and a newfound heat caressed her.
Lika came bustling outside to the fiery death pile with the hot steamy cups of tea, and gave these, smiling, to Treva and Lanico. The timing was perfect and Lanico had quite forgotten about his request to her.
“Everything is ready, sire. Enjoy your tea.” Lika made a small bow and hurried off for other tasks. She’d have to start bringing her laundering supplies back into the castle, trip by trip.
“Thank you, Lika,” Lanico said quietly. “It will do well to stave off the setting chill.”
The laundress gave him a glance and turned to walk away, shaking her head. She was no fool. She understood well enough.
Lanico’s and Treva’s eyes were glowing at the wild flares. Grude still seemed alive as the flames licked his face and gaping mouth. She had wanted to see him burn at least for a few moments—it was a closure of sorts. Making sure he had really died. She needed that.
Treva gulped the hot tea. The warmth was soothing, perhaps comforting especially in the cool of the approaching night but then the bitter aftertaste. “Glah!” Her features twisted slightly, “Why does everyone seem to have this awful tea?” Lanico laughed a little and she sipped more. With her free hand she felt for Lanico’s hand. There was relief there in finding it. His hand, so much larger than hers, closed around her fingers and palm. He beamed down at her. His very own Queen.
He probably could have asked for another tea, probably didn’t need the elicit Dew Tea, but decided it may add a sort of kindling to their already roaring fire.
“I’m ready,” she said after a few moments, her eyes smiling back at him from behind her tilting cup.
He took her hand, still clasped in his, and placed a soft kiss upon it. The sensation sent tingles up the length of her arm and made her knees feel watery.
“Wonderful. We’ll retire for the evening. First, we’ll take warm baths, and finally change into fresh clothes…” He breathed in a sigh. Still staring into the golden fire of her eyes, he didn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence.
“Marin? Anah? What of them?” she asked.
“Off to view the village. They found Miken and wanted to see it. Gish and Felena are with Freck, at the healer’s station that had been assembled. His wound is treated—he has to be bandaged for a few days is all. I understand that they also wanted to make they ways to the village later.” He sighed and his posture dipped slightly. “It’s long been a place of interest to them. They’re all taken care of. I’ve made sure they are all safe and well.”
“Alright,” she purred. Baths, clothes, the young warriors—he had thought of it all. It felt nice not having to be in charge of quite everything. That he’d taken control over these important details. There was now even more relief, an opportunity to relax worries that had long occupied her mind. Ooo, and the idea of bathing…so delightful.
Hand in hand, they turned and made their march up to their home, to the Castle of Odana.
Treva hadn’t imagined how right she had been. He really had thought of it all. He walked her to the bathing chamber. Warm water was waiting. Steam still swirled and danced lazily over the surface. She inhaled, the scent of jasmine, and something sweeter, perhaps vanilla. No. Not vanilla. For that scent often carried sensual thoughts to another—and though she did miss her friendship, Treva didn’t want to think of her, or of anyone other than her true love, Lanico. She wasn’t sure, but whatever the scent, it was divine. It was a lovely change from the small vile of lavender she always carried and stashed away in a hidden place on herself. All of this was a glorious surprise and she hadn’t visited this particular room since after she had delivered Marin.
“There is a fresh pile of clothes for you.” His voice brought her back from that memory. He gestured to the folded towels, hair brush, and clothes waiting on the floor. “I’ll be farther down the corridor.”
The thumping of her heart slowed at that disappointment. She thought they’d bathe together, but didn’t say anything. Perhaps later. They’d won. They would be married. And they had the rest of their lives to bathe together—to do whatever together. It was a pleasure to bathe at all and have another change of clothes. Pleased at the outcome of this entire day—everything having led her here. A scarred, poor, green-haired farmgirl.
He left her there with a gentle kiss and a promise for more, later.
With an easy smile, she tipped up on her toes and kissed him back.
✽✽✽
She closed the wooden doors and he turned to begin his own task of bathing. It wasn’t easy to leave her alone, but he desperately wanted to bathe and make a quick attempt to freshen up his chambers before she had finished. It was his plan. His bath had to be quick. He ran off, sprinting.
Once on the opposite end of the corridor, using another bathing chamber, he thrust open the door. The scent was lovely. His bath had been scented with lavender and mint. There was an array of sponges and soaps arranged for him on the ledge of the enormous bath. But he was in a hurry and wasn’t about to relax.
“Oh, thank Father Odan on High for Lika,” he said under his breath. She had made this all so easy.
He slipped into the warm milky water and quickly scoured days of sweat and blood from himself. With fast movements, he scrubbed his hair and then shaved. His swift movements allowed him to emerge clean and renewed. He lifted his clothes from a folded pile of extra towels and frowned. Only pants. Lika had left him only a damned pair of pants to wear. He shrugged and slipped these on. Perhaps Lika couldn’t locate a shirt? He realized that she had likely been bustling around trying to locate this. He was grateful at her effort and at least the single pair of pants he now wore. He looked down at his chest. His wound, still tender and pink, was miraculously almost completely healed. He didn’t waste time. He left the bathing chamber to pad down the corridor. Quickly.
But she had done the same.
The sound of brushing skin first caught his delicate Fray ears from down the corridor. Then, right then, there was the flash of bare legs that caught his eye. Treva had no pants! The shirt she wore was the matching top to his pants. Seeing each other they laughed. That question they both had was now settled. Thankfully, no one was around. The shirt, though lengthy, was not quiet long enough. And, like him, she strapped on her sword, which now dangled near her thighs. Except for her healing and then that one-time in the barracks years ago, he’d never seen so much of her before. Her tan legs were shapely and toned with muscle. Oh fires! Any movement from her could expose—
Lanico decided to start off by showing her his old chambers—their new chambers, just down the way. The Dew Tea was now raging, coursing in their veins, warming their skin, their bodies, their…their…
The flickering lanterns caught his form most marvelously. His biceps and pectoral muscles shifted as he took her hand gently in his and led her away. She went along with him most enthusiastically. Still holding his hand, they laughed bounding onward to the chamber door. Their laughs rebounded against the somber stone pillars along the way. The pleasant sound hadn’t been heard down this corridor in far too long.
“Here,” he said as she tipped up to kiss him and giggle into his smiling mouth. “W-we’re here.” They stopped in front of a set of massive mahogany doors.
“I know. Remember I’ve been away from this castle just as long as you, sire,” she purred.
Lanico fumbled for the handle and then excitedly threw open the doors. With minor chest discomfort from his wound, he playfully hoisted a giggling Treva up into his arms, and marched into his room preparing for a different sort of...battle.
He was just about to toss her onto his enormous bed—but tha
nkfully didn’t when, “Don’t kill us!” An unexpected voice yelled out high. A small form suddenly appeared from behind a pile of colorful fabric and tulle.
Treva gasped loudly, Lanico almost dropped her to pull his hilt. The metallic drag immediate.
Treva, despite the shortness of the nightshirt, jumped down from his one-armed-hold, alert. Her own hand brushing the pommel of her falchion—ready.
“I-I am Gilden, the tailor. Oh, please tell me our precious Swanloft is safe!” The Prondolin fully emerged from behind the pile.
What? Confusion washed over him, not threat. Lanico slid Reluctant Leader back into place. The slide of Treva’s sword echoed his.
Seeing them replace their swords, Gilden continued over his shoulder, “Ilgani! You can come out now, it’s okay!” Another small, but slightly larger figure came out from behind the massive bed—which was covered with an assortment of more tulle, boxes, and fabrics. A reason Lanico was also glad he didn’t toss her upon it at that last possible second.
“How many of you are there?” Lanico asked with a curious wince.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 27