The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus

by D. B. Reynolds

  As if he knew what she’d been thinking, he smiled, his eyes crinkling while they seemed to dance with amusement. “How much freedom do you have to leave Sotiris’s tower?” he asked. “How closely does he monitor your comings and goings?”

  “I am mostly left alone, free to do as I wish, though I have no doubt that his guards monitor my movements. But it’s also true that he could call for me at any moment, and when he does, I must be there to respond. Otherwise, he will become curious, or more likely suspicious, and seek me out by whatever means necessary.”

  “What of this afternoon, then? Are you certain his travel was genuine, and not a ploy to catch you consorting with his enemy?” He said that last playfully, but his expressive eyes told her he was serious and perhaps even concerned for her safety.

  “Sotiris greatly prefers never to travel other than what is required by his various wars. The current journey was long-planned, a consultation with a useful ally who resides at some far-flung distance, and who never leaves his tower. Sotiris trusts the man, or so he claims. I don’t believe he trusts anyone. It’s more likely he wants to take advantage of some unusual skill the man possesses, nothing else.”

  “I see. Well, then, do you ride?”

  She smiled in surprise. “Yes, of course. Since before I could walk. My mother is a superb horsewoman.”

  “As am I. Or rather, horseman, which is obvious, one hopes.”

  As if there was any doubt, she thought wryly, but kept the observation to herself. He hardly needed fresh compliments to boost his ego.

  “Your stable,” he said, “or rather Sotiris’s I suppose, is about to acquire a new trainer. He will bring fresh stock with him, and upon meeting your charming self and learning of your skill as a horsewoman, will suggest a new mount among his stock for your personal use.”

  “How very gentlemanly of him.”

  “Indeed. Even more so when he insists on riding out with you to ensure your safety, until you are fully comfortable with the new horse.”

  “That, good sir, will cause a scandal if this new trainer looks like you.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  Bullshit, she thought. And yet, she was charmed. There was no conceit in his banter. He simply seemed to like engaging with her. And probably every other woman, too. But still, she could enjoy his company while she had it.

  “You may be assured, Lady Antonia, that my appearance will present no threat to your honor. Quite the opposite, in fact. I have no wish to draw attention to myself, especially not within the confines of Sotiris’s estate.”

  “That would be wise,” she agreed. “When do you anticipate this new trainer arriving, and how will I ensure that we meet?”

  “I will arrive early tomorrow morning,” he said, a clear challenge in his gaze. “As for the other, you need only visit the stables as you would normally. Preferably before noon, as I have duties here and my absence will be remarked upon if I’m away for too long.”

  “And just as my mother has spies in Sotiris’s tower, so too does Sotiris have spies in yours.”

  “It is the way of things,” he commented, seeming unworried.

  “Yes, it is.” She paused, looking up to meet eyes which were no longer laughing or arrogant, but filled with sincerity. As if he understood that she needed to know what kind of man he truly was. Not the great sorcerer, but a serious and ordinary man. The latter of which he would never be. And yet . . . “I am trusting you, Nico. More than I have trusted any other person, except my mother.”

  “Trust runs both ways, Antonia,” he reminded gently.

  For some reason, that simple statement of truth reassured her, and suddenly she felt younger than she had in years, possibly since the day she’d first arrived at Sotiris’s tower. A laugh tried to bubble up her throat, but she swallowed it. Private feelings were one thing. Sharing them was something else entirely.

  “Very well. If you’re sure.”

  “Like you, my lady, I have no desire to die. Be assured that I am in no danger from that device if you return it to Sotiris’s tower. I learned to protect myself from enemies near and far at a very young age.”

  She regarded his serious mien for another heartbeat, then picked up the silk-covered hexagon, wrapped it in folds of leather, and walked to the back of her carriage. Once there, she buried it in a picnic basket that was already half-full with the remains of an extensive feast. Turning from her task, she caught his raised eyebrow and explained, “Sotiris keeps hounds. They are trained to scent any magic coming through the gate, regardless of who or what transports them. Given my magical abilities, it is expected the hounds will react to me, but the food adds an additional barrier to detection, which I find prudent given the hexagon’s potential.”

  “You worry for my safety, but are you certain it’s safe for you to go back there? You’re welcome to remain here. We have more than enough guest quarters suitable for a lady.”

  She would have liked that. She’d certainly have slept better. But she shook her head. “No, for all the reasons I already explained, this—” She gestured at the basket with its dangerous cargo. “—has to return to Sotiris’s tower with me.” She paused, then said, “I am not helpless either, Nico. You may rely on that as well.”

  “I shall, but don’t betray my faith, Antonia. I’m looking forward to my new job as a horse trainer, and would deeply regret losing you as a patroness.”

  Far too charming for his own good, she thought. And yet, when she guided her carriage through the gates and out onto the road back to Sotiris’s estate, she smiled at the thought of seeing him the next day. No matter what he looked like.

  AS PROMISED, NICO appeared at the gate to Sotiris’s estate the next morning riding a black gelding and leading two beautiful mares behind him. What the gate guards saw wasn’t the handsome and powerful sorcerer, however. He wore the garb of an ordinary peasant, but with the addition of good riding boots and leather chaps over well-made cotton trousers. A dark brown, flat cap covered his streaked brown hair, which was tied into a neat queue at the back of his neck. His hands were weathered and scarred, and the face that looked out from under the cap was that of a man who’d spent a lifetime in the sun and wind—a lifetime considerably longer than Nico’s had been.

  His expression was modest when he removed the hat and held it to his chest as he bowed slightly from the waist. “Petros Vasilis, good sir. Newly hired for the stables.”

  The guard studied him a long moment, gave a short nod, and said, “Beautiful beasts there, horseman. Are they yours?”

  Nico smiled proudly. “All three bred and raised from birth by my own hand.”

  “You’ll be welcome, then. Not to speak ill of the dead, but our last stable master had a hard hand with the animals. Looking at those, your hand is a mite gentler.”

  “You’d be right on that, good sir. I find the beasts respond better to kindness than brutality.”

  “Go on through, then. Stables are to the right, just past the main building.”

  “My thanks, and good day to you.” Nico wanted to kick the gelding into a faster pace, eager as he was to see Antonia again, but knowing she’d hardly be waiting at the barn doors for his arrival, he kept to a slow walk, making use of the time to study Sotiris’s estate from inside the walls. He’d seen it before, studied every detail of it, using his sorcery. He’d even constructed a model of it for his war room. But seeing it with his own eyes was enlightening. Not only the buildings, but the people coming and going, busy with their work days. His own estate was a mostly cheerful place at this time of day, with children chattering as they ran to morning classes, women calling to each other over laundry and stove fires, and the smell of fresh bread and roasting meats filling the air.

  Sotiris’s estate was as busy, but quieter and more orderly, though the same tasks could be seen being carried out as he rode past,
and the aromas were mostly the same, including the distinctive scent of the stables. He followed that scent past the main building, with its multiple towers, and across a large yard to a well-maintained barn, with several sturdy paddocks. The former stable master might have had a hard hand with animals, but he’d clearly kept the stables in good order.

  Nico dismounted at the paddock nearest the barn entrance and tied all three horses to the fence before walking through the wide-open double barn doors. An older man emerged from what was clearly a tack room, just as Nico paused to inhale the sweet, familiar odor of horses and fresh hay.

  “Petros Vasilis,” he said, by way of introduction. “Newly hired for the stables here.”

  “Aye, we were told you’d be coming.” The man held out a rough, calloused hand, introducing himself as Nico took the hand with his own, which was similarly calloused though mostly from wielding a blade. “Yorgos Karolis,” the man introduced himself, “but Yor is good enough. You brought your stock with you?”

  “I did, some of them at least. Outside.”

  “Let’s take a look then. Lord Sotiris breeds mostly for war mounts, for himself and his generals, though the Lady Antonia does like to ride for pleasure.” He stopped when he saw Nico’s three animals. “Well, those are a damn fine recommendation for your breeding skills. How’s their training?”

  “All three are sweet and fast. The gelding’s a big horse and needs a strong hand, but has the temperament for war. As for the mares, they’re both fine riding mounts. The chestnut is the younger one, but at three and a half years, she’ll be ready to breed soon. The bay’s her dam, sired out of a war stallion I bred ten years ago. He’s in Lord Nicodemus’s stable now.”

  “Ah.” Yor grimaced.

  Nico, aka Petros, grinned. “I don’t take sides when it comes to my horses. The lord caught sight of the stallion and bought him on the spot. He’s known for keeping a good stable, just like this one, so I sold him.”

  “All the same, I’d keep that quiet for now.”

  “Understood.”

  Yor was examining the chestnut, running a hand over her legs, checking eyes and teeth. “Lady Antonia’s favorite mare pulled up lame just yesterday,” he said, without looking up. “Nothing too serious, but she won’t be rideable for a week or two. She’ll be looking for a replacement. This pretty filly would do nicely.”

  “I’d be honored. Though I’d prefer to go out with her the first few times. The mare is saddle-trained, of course, but she hasn’t been ridden much yet, not out in the open. Better to have a strong hand around at first.”

  “We’ll check with the lady. She’s usually out here a bit later in the morning. In the meantime, you can stable all three. Let me show you the rest of the barn.”

  THE NEXT FEW hours were filled with introductions for Nicodemus, to animals and people both. He met and gentled Sotiris’s two stallions, both of which he had confronted in previous battles. But Nico had a gift with animals, and though the stallions had been hell on four legs when they’d fought, they whickered like friendly colts when he stroked their necks and spoke softly.

  “You have a gift,” a feminine voice said from behind him.

  Nico turned with a slow smile for Antonia, whom he wasn’t supposed to know. Frankly, he was surprised she recognized him, even though he’d told her he wouldn’t look like himself. He tugged his hat off and held it before him with nervous hands, eyes mostly downcast, with only quick glances up at her. “My lady,” he said with proper deference.

  “Lady Antonia,” she provided. “My cattle foreman tells me you’ve a fine hand with the animals. High praise, indeed, coming from Yor. He also said you’ve brought some of your own horses, including one which might do well for me.”

  “Yes, my lady. She’s young and spirited, but takes well to the rein and has a good heart.”

  Antonia grinned. “A good heart. And what does that mean, Master . . .”

  “Petros Vasilis, my lady.”

  “Master Petros, then.”

  “She’s even-tempered and aware of her rider at all times. She’s never been known to spook so badly that her rider loses their seat, and she’s easy with the other horses.”

  “A paragon of horse flesh.”

  “She is a fine mare, my lady. I would be honored if you would ride her, though as I told Yor, I would prefer to ride out with you until you get to know each other.”

  “I’ve been riding since I was a child, Master Petros.”

  “Indeed, my lady, and I mean no offense or comment on your skill. It is perhaps my own failing that I am protective of the horses I breed. I like to be certain they go to responsible riders.”

  “I take no offense,” she said easily. “I find your care admirable. Do you extend it to the horses you care for, as well? Or only those of your own?”

  “I would never harm an animal, Lady Antonia. Nor stand by and watch someone else do so. Some animals are bred for the slaughter, but even that can be administered with minimal fear and suffering.”

  “You have a kind heart to go with your gentle hand. I accept your offer. I will ride out this morning, and you will ride with me.”

  Hearing her proclamation, the stable boys rushed to get the two horses ready. Antonia would be riding the young mare, while Nico rode the gelding. No one else was ever permitted to mount that one. He’d bottle-fed the horse from birth, after the colt’s mother—who’d been bred too young, and not by Nico—had rejected him. Nico had slept in the barn for months, becoming the only parent the colt, and now the gelding, ever knew. When they rode together, they became one, moving in perfect harmony, each knowing what the other would do before it happened.

  Antonia had disappeared for the time it took the horses to be prepared. Nico hadn’t known why, nor did his role permit him to ask. He couldn’t help wondering, however, if Sotiris had returned, and if Antonia had gone into the house to share a morning meal with him. The idea grated on his nerves, until his teeth began to grind loud enough to be heard. It made him question his decision to undertake this subterfuge, which had no real purpose but to visit the lady.

  It was far too late for such doubts, however. If he disappeared now, it would draw unwelcome attention and questions. And if Sotiris happened to become involved, he could very well detect Nico’s presence. Neither of them closed their estates to travelers. Such a move would affect the common markets too greatly. They each had specific protective spells cast against the other. Nico was only able to gain this much access to Sotiris’s estate because the bastard hadn’t been in residence the previous night, when he’d cast a few spells of his own to counteract Sotiris’s efforts. That, too, was only possible because Nico knew Sotiris so well, and could counter the magic he detected.

  That wasn’t to say there wouldn’t be any other magic floating about that he failed to detect. Sotiris was a world-class ass, but he was also a very powerful sorcerer. Why else would their rivalry have continued for so many years?

  “Master Petros.” Antonia’s sweet soprano sounded like a song when she said his name.

  “Lady Antonia. Everything is prepared. We awaited only your return.”

  Antonia rolled her eyes at his flowery language, while Nico knelt on one knee to offer her a mounting assist. She had changed into leather riding gear, which was an improvement over the morning gown she’d worn previously. But the outfit still included a long, split skirt to conceal her feminine charms. He’d been relieved when the stable boy had produced a fine, leather saddle, not unlike his own. He’d feared at first that she might choose to ride side-saddle, and though he’d met many female riders who did quite well with that arrangement, he desired to ride far enough that Antonia wouldn’t fear detection, and that meant moving fast over sometimes uneven ground.

  They kept to a decorous pace as they rode around the main residence and through the gates, with Nico mai
ntaining his pose as the older, experienced horse master by her side. It wasn’t until they’d dropped behind the rise facing the estate that Nico pulled up and caught her attention.

  “Are you ready to ride, Antonia?”

  “I thought we were,” she countered, with an impish smile that said she knew full well what he intended.

  “You claim to be an accomplished rider, my lady.”

  “I don’t claim. I state the truth. And can you please drop the damn disguise. It’s uncanny to hear your words coming from another’s mouth.”

  “But this is not my voice.”

  “No, but those are your words, as well as the confidence that coats them.”

  Nico hadn’t considered the possibility that his disguise could be so easily undone by one who knew him. Sotiris would certainly have recognized him. But then, if he’d known his enemy would be meeting him, Nico would have put more effort into the spell.

  “Over the next rise,” he conceded. “I wouldn’t want my deception revealed out of impatience.”

  “Set the pace then, Master Petros, and be assured I will match you.”

  Nico grinned, and without further warning, took off across the narrow valley, heading for the next set of hills. The road was well-traveled and free of hazards, but he cast a spell ahead of him anyway. He had no concerns about his own safety, but he had only Antonia’s word as to her skill, and found himself unwilling to take any risks.

  ANTONIA’S HAT HAD fallen back to lie against her neck, and she knew her cheeks would be bright pink with sunlight and wind both. But she didn’t care. She loved riding and had chafed at the restrictions placed on her by Sotiris. At home on her mother’s estate, she’d spent most of her childhood dressed as a boy and behaving like one, too. At least during the day. In the evening, she’d bathed and dressed properly, and then sat to dinner with whatever adults were in residence, learning the proper etiquette while trying not to shovel food into a stomach that had used up every bit of sustenance from her midday meal. Fortunately, her antics had been viewed as charming, rather than scandalous, although she knew it was largely because she’d been a pretty child. She was now the same as a woman, which brought certain indulgences, although gobbling food was no longer one of them. She smiled at the thought, and when Nico dropped below the rise through the trees ahead of her, she had to urge the mare to a faster pace, wanting to keep up, if only to prove to him she could.