“Twice. The last time, he caught me.”
She leaned in close, also looking through the crack in the door. “Well, it's probably not a good idea to hide here again, is it?”
He considered this. “You're right! I know the perfect place to hide. I'm gonna need your help.”
Without waiting for a response, Lehr flung the door open, grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the corridor. He led her down the hallway to a wooden door before letting go. “Let me check to see if he's out there,” he whispered conspiratorially.
Suddenly plagued by indecision, Vaxi shot a glance back down the corridor. Mizar had told her not to go wandering off on her own, but what else was she supposed to do? She felt too wound up to sleep, and he and Sen would be busy translating for several more hours. Besides, she couldn't very well refuse a Prince, could she?
“It's all clear!” He grasped her hand again and yanked her into a small courtyard. Together they ran down a stony path through another arched entranceway, and Vaxi found herself in a picturesque garden, where flowers in colors too numerous to mention lined the perimeter. Insects buzzed to and fro between the many plants, and the fragrance given off by the flowers reminded her of the blooms that grew in the forest along the River Ix.
“Come on,” he squealed, leading her toward the far end of the garden, where a lone tree grew. A thick trunk led up to a mass of sprawling branches covered with wide, triangular leaves. Vaxi heard the faint chorus of birdsong coming from the uppermost part of the tree. “Give me a boost up!” He gestured for her to interlock her fingers. When she obliged, he put his tiny booted foot into it. It surprised her how little he weighed. With almost no effort, she raised him to the level of the bottommost branch. He threw his arms around it, hauling himself up.
“Are you all right?” she asked, even though she knew she needn't have. The way Lehr climbed from branch to branch like a nemza cat told her tree climbing was a skill he was particularly adept at.
“Fine!” He put his finger to his lips. “Just be quiet!”
She averted her gaze away from the little boy in the tree at the same moment a tall figure appeared at the garden entrance. He, like Agedor, wore a red-and-white tunic with the Daradian emblem over his left breast. However, his tunic's design was more elaborate, with the front and sides bearing a pattern of interlocking red and white diamond shapes. Dark-haired and more muscular than his brother, this could only be Prince Warran.
It struck her at that moment that she'd mistakenly pictured Warran in her head as much younger than his true age. Even though she'd already seen Agedor, who she knew to be twenty-two based on what Sen had told her, she'd still imagined Warran to be her age. But from his face he had to be at least twenty-five.
“You there!” he called, and Vaxi had to look to both sides to make certain he was addressing her. Not wanting to give Lehr's hiding place away, she hoisted up the folds of her skirt and approached him. When they met in the center of the garden, she was relieved to find a disarming smile on his face.
“Yes, Your Highness?” she asked, bowing her head.
“I'm looking for my brother, Prince Lehr,” he said coyly, his eyes roaming over every corner of the garden. “You haven't seen him, have you?”
Vaxi was torn. Should she lie to Warran, or play along? Mizar's warning flashed through her mind, and she cursed herself for leaving the bedroom.
“I might have,” she said, shifting her feet. She couldn't look him in the eye for fear he'd catch her in a half-truth.
“Look at me,” he said, rather more politely than she might have expected.
She met his eyes, which were green like Lehr's. His handsome, clean-shaven face and strong jaw caught her off guard. This man was Aridor's first-born son, the heir to the throne. The weight of that burden must be incredible, and yet he still found time to play search-and-find with his much younger brother. Her ability to speak left her.
“I don't believe I know you,” he said. “Who are you? And why do you carry a bow?”
She bowed her head again, taking a step back. “I-I am Vaxi, Your Highness.”
A tiny rustle of branches from the tree caught his attention. He looked past her but didn't move. “What are you doing in my family's garden, Vaxi?”
She felt her palms start to sweat, and she wiped them on the sides of her dress. “I-I'm a guest of the High Mage, Your Highness. I ran into your brother and –” She slammed her palm over her mouth, realizing she'd just betrayed the young prince.
“I see,” he said, clearly amused by her discomfort. His eyes bore into hers, and her throat became a desert. She wondered if he was going to call for the guards to report her as an interloper.
After several agonizing seconds, he walked past her to the tree. Looking upward into the maze of branches, he called out, “Is that my brother, the mighty Prince Lehr of Darad up there? Or is that a gooku bird that has grown to immense size and stolen his clothes?”
Vaxi couldn't see Lehr from her position, but his high-pitched, annoyed voice filtered through the leaves. “That's not fair! She told you! I still win!”
“Not this time, Little Prince,” he said, grinning. “Now come down before you get us both in trouble.”
Foot by foot, Lehr descended to the bottom branches, finally lowering himself onto Warran's offered shoulders. He latched onto his big brother's neck, and Warran took him on a quick jog around the garden, whinnying like a merych.
Vaxi couldn't help but smile. She had pictured the royals as being stuffy, rigidly adhering to centuries of traditions and rules of propriety. Even after Sen had described them to her, she expected them to be austere, harsh, and completely lacking in humor. Watching the two princes engaging in innocent fun had completely taken her aback. She laughed out loud as Lehr nudged his brother with his boots, yelling “Yah! Yah!” as Warran took him on the ride of his life.
Finally, Warran slowed to a halt, right in front of Vaxi. “All right, Your Highness, ride's over.” He was barely out of breath.
“Awwww,” the boy pouted as his feet touched solid ground. “Again? Please?”
“Sorry, Lehr, it's time for your reading lesson. You best get to it before Mother puts us both over her knee.”
“All right,” Lehr conceded, stamping his foot on the ground. “Can we do it again tomorrow?”
“I doubt it. Father will be home soon, and he's bringing a lot of important people with him.” Lehr made another face, but Warran just smiled. “If I had the choice, I'd play all day. But part of being a grown-up means you have to do grown-up things from time to time.”
“I know.” The little Prince looked up at Vaxi. “It was nice to meet you, Vaxi. Thanks for helping me.”
Vaxi bowed at the waist, mimicking Lehr's earlier action. “It was a pleasure, Your Highness. I look forward to our next meeting.”
“Come on, off you go,” Warran said, and with a wave, Lehr sprinted out of the courtyard.
Warran turned to face Vaxi, giving her a bemused smile. She felt simultaneously happy and nervous under his scrutiny.
“You know, you never answered my questions,” he said.
“Questions?”
“Who exactly are you? And why do you carry a bow?”
“Oh.” She shuffled her feet again, and suddenly felt like a child being scolded by her grandmother. “I did tell you my name, right?”
“Your name is Vaxi, and you're a guest of the High Mage.”
“Yes.”
He thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I don't know the High Mage well; certainly not as well as Father does. I suppose it's part of his persona that he cloaks himself in a certain air of mystery. As Arantha's messenger, that's to be expected. However, finding a strange girl in the royal garden armed with a bow is rather more mystery than I'm accustomed to. It's certainly not something I've ever seen before.”
Vaxi's mind raced. She didn't want Warran to catch her in a lie, but how much truth should she tell? She was prepared for the moment her true identity
would eventually become known, but was that moment right now? There had to be something she could say that would satisfy his curiosity.
Suddenly, the story Mizar had told Sevrin flashed through her mind. “I've loved archery since I was a little girl, Your Highness,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on his chest instead of his eyes. “I crafted my first bow at the age of twelve. It's … it's very special to me. It's the only thing from home that I was able to bring.”
He nodded. “And where is home?”
The rock in her stomach doubled in size. She felt her mouth go dry again. “The High Mage, his apprentice, and I just arrived a few hours ago from Ghaldyn.”
“Ah, yes, his home province.” He nodded again, and Vaxi prayed her evasiveness had worked. He held his hand out. “May I see it?”
“Of course, Your Highness.” She removed the bow from around her shoulders and handed it to him.
He turned it over, inspecting it closely, much as Sevrin had done in his tiny shop in Thage. After a brief examination, he handed it back to her. “I've never had much luck with a bow. Father's instructors tried for years to teach me, but it was a lost cause.” He took a step back. Vaxi's eyes widened as he unsheathed his longsword. He held it in front of him, but not in a threatening manner. Turning to the side, he demonstrated what she imagined to be some basic maneuvers of fencing, feinting and parrying against an invisible opponent. After dealing an imaginary death-blow, he faced her again with a prideful smile. “Thank Arantha I inherited my father's skill with a sword.”
Before she could respond, he turned the weapon around and offered it to her, hilt-first.
“Your Highness?” she squeaked, staring at it.
He grinned. “Go on, take it.”
Fighting back her nervousness, she gripped the hilt in her right hand. At that moment, he let go, and the blade's tip dropped swiftly to the ground, embedding itself in the soil. Warran chuckled, and she wondered if he was mocking her.
With a burst of determined energy, she grasped the hilt with both hands, quickly becoming accustomed to the weight. It was heavy, but not so heavy that she couldn't wield it. Bringing the sword up, she stepped back with her right foot and pointed the blade at Warran. With a wicked grin, she attempted to copy his moves. Her footwork was sloppy with the unfamiliar weapon, and her thrusts were clumsy and awkward, but the look of complete surprise on his face was worth the embarrassment.
She finished her own invisible opponent off with a quick thrust before reversing the sword and offering it back to its owner. “It is a good weapon.”
He took it back from her and re-sheathed it. “Have you ever held a sword before?”
Her face flushed. “No, Your Highness.”
Warran crossed his arms and his mouth curled into a crooked half-smile. “You are not like any girl I've ever met.”
The compliment turned to liquid warmth inside her chest. She had no idea what the coming days would bring, but she realized that winning both Warran—and, to a smaller extent, Lehr—over, could go a long way toward the upcoming drama ending favorably for both herself and her people. Turning her head yet keeping her eyes on him, she said, “I don't suppose I am.”
“Tell me,” he said, leaning forward, “are you as good at shooting a bow as you are at crafting one?”
A proud smile powered through her blushing. “Better.”
“Show me.”
“Your Highness?”
“Your shooting stance. Show me.”
She stared at the bow in her hand, her words tripping over each other. “I-I have no arrows, so I don't know how I can—”
“Please,” he said, taking a half-step backward. “Indulge me.”
Exhaling, she bowed her head and took up her usual stance, drawing back on the bowstring and aiming an imaginary arrow at a target on the other side of the garden. She closed one eye, steadying her breath, wondering what the prince's next request of her would be.
After several seconds, she turned her head to see Warran deep in thought. She let the bowstring go slack as he held out his hand to her. “Come with me,” he said.
She took his hand, and he led her from the courtyard without another word.
Why didn't I just stay in the bedroom?
Arantha help me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maeve spent the next morning, just like the previous morning, training the three dozen Ixtrayu huntresses. It didn't take her long to fall back into instructor mode, something she'd developed during her stint at Space Corps Academy. She had to keep in mind, though, that her students were not kids, fresh from university, eager to begin their combat training. These were seasoned huntresses, well versed in stealth tactics and tracking. They were all in peak physical condition, and intimately familiar with the area they'd be defending.
Her biggest worry, apart from the urgency of the situation, was the size and strength of the force they'd be opposing. Facing the Lightning-Wielder was daunting enough, but having to also face a force of indeterminate size armed with conventional weapons made Maeve wonder if all her efforts would be in vain. Much like thirteenth-century Earth, the men of Elystra had developed metallurgy, which meant their foes would likely also be armed with swords and possibly wearing armor as well. The only weaponry the Ixtrayu possessed were bows and arrows, short knives, clubs, and spears.
Not only that, but the Plateau was a bottleneck. It would be easy for the enemy to surround them, trapping them within its rocky confines, and simply wait them out. The dozens of Ixtrayu who were too old or unskilled to join the fray would be slaughtered if their method of battle was purely defensive.
For several hours, Maeve taught the huntresses the basics of unarmed combat, skills she'd learned from masters of both aikido and taekwondo. She hoped the battle would not require close-quarter fighting, given how badly outnumbered they were. Runa was especially helpful over the course of the lessons, not only picking up the moves very quickly but assisting the younger huntresses in adapting to the alien art with little difficulty.
When the training session began, Maeve had held out little hope that she could turn the Ixtrayu huntresses into warriors, into soldiers. But she'd underestimated them yet again.
Would it be enough?
* * *
It was well past midday when Maeve and Kelia made their way to the dining area. There were still a few leftover shanks of meat, which they ate despite them having cooled to room temperature. Maeve downed several mugs of water during the meal, thankful to have someone nearby who could cool the liquid's temperature to a more refreshing level.
Neither spoke much over their lunch. Both were tired and sore from the day's training, and Maeve looked forward to that evening when she could enjoy a warm bath—also courtesy of Kelia—and a good night's sleep.
“Your huntresses are remarkable athletes,” Maeve said as she chewed the final remnants of her meal. “I've trained many students in combat, but the Ixtrayu have taken to it far faster than most cadets. I just hope it's worth it.”
Kelia eyed her warily. “ 'Worth it'?”
Maeve met her gaze, and instantly regretted her choice of words. “I'm sorry. What I meant to say was, I hope it's enough.”
“That is my hope as well.” Kelia stared at her nearly empty plate. “I think we both know the battle will truly be won or lost by the Wielders.”
“Agreed. With me augmenting you, any attacking army will suffer heavy casualties before one of them set foot in the plateau. Once Nyla learns to control her abilities a little more, she'll be a fearsome opponent as well.”
Kelia's face creased for a moment before shifting back into a blank stare.
“I promise you, I will formulate a battle plan that will allow us to utilize her abilities while keeping her as far out of harm's way as possible,” Maeve said, placing her hand over Kelia's.
“Thank you,” the Protectress said softly. She seemed unconvinced.
“There's something else I must bring up,” Maeve said. “Most of th
e Ixtrayu, in my opinion, would be ineffective in this fight. I think you would agree with that.”
Kelia nodded.
“Obviously, I would like to keep the casualties to a minimum.” Maeve scanned the dining area, eying her adopted tribemates as they enjoyed their meal. “In light of your visions, I can't help but wonder if we should evacuate everyone not participating in the defense of the Plateau to a safer location.”
“I have considered that as well,” Kelia said in a low voice. “The safest place that I can think of would be Lake Barix, two hours' ride south of here. It is nestled within the southern curve of the Kaberian Mountains, and there are plenty of caves in which to hide.”
“That seems ideal.”
“Yes, it does, but such a course of action would incur numerous other problems.”
“Such as?”
Kelia sighed, staring at the kova bones on her plate. “For starters, those we send there would be defenseless if our enemies were to find them. Several huntresses, perhaps even one of our Wielders, would have to accompany them. That would lessen our chances of success in the battle.”
“Our enemies don't know the area,” Maeve said. “They're strangers in this land. They would have no reason to search those mountains—”
“I disagree,” Kelia cut in, her expression becoming worrisome. “I have been giving much thought to how Proda's daughter is able to find us. The only thing I can conclude is that she, like me, is receiving visions. There's simply no other way she would know exactly where we are.” She shook her head. “That, in itself, is perhaps the most disturbing revelation of all. It would mean Arantha herself is guiding her. Our divine goddess, who has kept us safe for all this time, is leading the force for our destruction right to our door.”
Maeve thought about this. “Not necessarily. I've told you what Richard said in his message. If there really is a game being played, and Elystra is the board, then the force moving this army across it may be the same thing that sent the Jegg to invade Earth. For want of a better term, I'm calling him the 'Dark Player'. Does that make sense?”
Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2) Page 16