by James Hunt
Below her, the guardian that had kept her safe, in his own way, was left behind.
****
"This is where I left them." Niyana said under the cowl of her hood. Only her bright green eyes pierced out from underneath it; she had pulled the mask up to cover her mouth and nose.
"Commander!" an Lunarian boy in soldier's garb came running up to the four of them. Niyana was escorted on both sides by armed soldiers. Her hands had been tied behind her, and the soldier's swords were a quick thrust away from her back. She was their prisoner. "Look, Harpais!" the boy said with alarm and brought forth a large golden feather. The commander glanced at it briefly before returning to meet his prisoner's icy stare. They all wore the same vest and pants uniform. It left their arms bare, but that could be covered by the cloak and hood. The captain didn't wear his cloak. He let his dark brown hair, bound tightly in a braided ponytail, swing free behind him.
"Keep looking" The Lunarian male commanded the boy who bowed and left to examine the surroundings. The officer was of medium build with a well toned body. His shirt was sleeveless and exposed the chiseled arms that perpetually rested at his hips on the hilts of two twin swords. His body was dark for an Lunarian; he held some forest blood in him. And his garments looked more suited to a mercenary than a soldier of the royal guard.
"Where did they take the human I wonder? And to what purpose?" he said as he rubbed the brown chin stubble he sprouted. He glanced to each of the soldiers briefly. "Hold her." Both men immediately seized Niyana's sides and held her still as she struggled. The commander pulled off her hood and mask roughly. He grabbed the top of her hair firmly and jerked her head to one side. There he scrutinized her pale skin -- it was perfect, without blemishes, without scars, pure...
"Your mark is gone." He commented quizzically.
"I have fulfilled my duty." She growled at him. "By the rite of Yvarna, I have earned my honor." She nearly spat at him.
"The rite can be reapplied." The commander countered. "I do not doubt that we have two corpses here. One is an Lunarian girl. One is an Lunarian boy wearing our uniform. Assuming he is Daeli, does not necessarily imply you are Eymara, and not this corpse here." The commander kicked at the torso that only a few hours ago had appendages, skin, and a face. He stared at Niyana's face as he held her head twisted to one side uncomfortably. "I am no fool. And this seems all too convenient, for gutter scum like you." He let go of her head roughly and turned away.
"Then how do you explain my mark." She seethed at him. "Yvarna marks us on the face, so our sins are known. Mine is gone. I have regained my honor by completing the duty commanded of me." Her voice carried with it the righteous indignation of Heaven's Fury. She could feel the trembling hands of her guards quivering against her -- they believed her, and they feared their own marks for defying the rite.
Niyana wasn't without her means of escape. She ripped her arms free of their grasp in one swift movement and released a spell that had been building in her mind to singe off the ropes around her wrists. It stung her as well but her hands snapped free in an instant, and she whirled to face her captors. In their eyes she saw uncertainty and obsequiousness. They weren't going to deny her -- not when they still had marks of their own as clear as day on their faces. They backed away without a fight.
"I will be watching you Eymara, if I sense any traitorous intent I will have you looking like our brethren here before the day is done." The commander said softly with his back to her. "Scout, report." He commanded to the boy. The youth with the feather walked into sight from behind a tree. His voice cracked a little but soon found its rhythm."T-there was another body here... Man-sized. Also three others on light feet. The man didn't walk away, but he disappeared along with the Harpais. He wasn't carried out; the light tracks didn't grow heavier."
"He was flown out." The commander concluded. "We have an elder Harpai to deal with. I want that human found, or his remains, enough to confirm his death." The commander nodded to the scout and the boy turned and started making arm signs to someone far up in the trees. "You two, take up hidden positions in case one of these beasts returns to finish what they left of our kin."
"And me?" Niyana asked as she rubbed her wrists and replaced her hood and mask over her face. The commander approached her slowly, his hands resting comfortably on the twin blades in his belt.
"If you are who you say you are, consider this..." he breathed softly at her. "I like you. You earned your rite, and left the scum to die and to be eaten... a fitting end. Unfortunately, we needed to confirm their identities. So that makes my job rather difficult."
"Hmph." Niyana snorted. "Find the human. If that wasn't the princess I killed, he will tell us otherwise."
"I never told you who we were after..." the Commander breathed as his leather gloves creaked around the handles of his blades.
"My mark would only disappear for one reason -- service to our King." Niyana breathed back at him in a dangerous game of bluff. "If it wasn't Princess Niyana... then it was this human. Either way, I have saved our kingdom from a terrible danger." She never let her eyes leave his. Regardless of the movement on those blade hilts, the moment she glanced down at them she knew he would end her. "And just because you don't tell us who we're after, doesn't mean we don't know it. The camp gossips at night." She said with a scoff and with that she turned around and left him standing.
"Where are you going?" The Commander said.
"To camp. I've done my part for the day, and I'm tired. You can handle one measly human." She shot back as she kept walking. She heard him stop following her a few paces back, her bluff wasn't called and her part had played itself out. Now she just needed to make it out of sight before she was shot in the back.
"Scout!" The commander called out. The boy soon appeared from the trees. "Escort her to the camp; make sure she goes straight to her tent." The boy nodded and ran to catch up to Niyana.
Niyana left them in the distance. Her heart had been pounding all that time as the nervousness of being found out loomed closer each second. Now that she had won, all that tension suddenly came off her shoulders. She staggered in her step.
"M-My lady?" the boy timidly asked. "Are you alright?"
"Lady?" She shot back at him, remembering her new persona.
"Sir!" the boy quickly corrected himself.
"Call me Eymara." She panted, as her head swam and threatened to faint.
"It's this way." He said meekly and took her hand. She froze in spot at the touch and shot him a dangerous look. The boy recoiled sharply and pointed in the direction they were supposed to head. "I-it moved this morning." He explained.
"Of course it did." She grumbled. Scouting camps never stayed in one location for long -- they would be discovered easily. Mobility was the key, and that required scouts to relay to all troops of a change in location. It was a scout that had found her in the trees earlier this day and held her until the captain arrived. Captain or commander... she wasn't even sure he held a real rank commanding a squad of Yvarna's. It was just as much a punishment as wearing those marks.
The walk to camp was long and quiet, Niyana stayed within a quick reach of the scout. Judging by his size she may need to protect him from the dangers of the wild. Or worse, end his life if he figured out who she was. However there was something oddly familiar about him that stuck in her mind -- he reminded her of someone she knew from a long time ago. As they walked she tried to place it. There was only one Lunarian she could think of that had such a small stature. But he was just a little boy when she last saw him.
"Gayne..," she whispered. The boy stopped in his tracks.
"Sir?" He said confused. It was then she saw his mark. The Yvarna was placed on his forehead. He tried to cover it with his blonde bangs, but it was still noticeable.
Niyana's heart sank when she saw what they had done to this boy. He had been her father's court minstrel. The boy was the heir to Ulesia's talents. His mother had mastered five instruments and taught music history at the univ
ersity. Gayne was her only son. While still a child he had master the flute and the lap harp. Her father made the young boy his personal musician for family dinners. Gayne was practically her younger brother the way her father doted on him. The memories of him playing for her when she was a young girl rushed to her then. He was half her age and yet she felt a warm familiar love of the young boy who kept her heart afloat with such beautiful songs on his reed flute.
Niyana clutched her chest as the pain of that tarnished memory hit her. There was a reason Gayne should be here, he could identify her to the others. The pain in her chest was remorse and dread of what she would have to do if he realized her for who she was. Gayne came to her side and took her arm in his.
"It's this way," He said and guided her. "That battle must have been horrible for you to be so weak, Sir." He had learned a few new tricks since she was a young girl -- flattery and lying. After a few steps she broke his hold, defiantly and walked behind him the rest of the way.
Their camp was just as she had imagined - simple, functional, and nearly deserted. A few stewards worked about preparing equipment and skinning game for the evening's meal. There were even a few guards watching the goings on of the stewards, and neither of the two males cared that Niyana and Gayne had returned. Gayne lead her to her tent. Where she entered without a word and promptly collapsed.
"Sir?" Gayne asked through the canvas flap. Niyana struggled to her feet once more, and poked her head out to glare at the young man.
"You've grown bolder boy." She condescended to him, as she followed her new role. "Come by my tent later this eve, I hear you play a good flute. Play for me, and I'll teach you a few things about spell weaving." Gayne's face twisted in a mixed expression of surprise, fear, and joy. If she guessed right, he had been thrust into the life of a scout without formal training, only because he could recognize her. No one here cared for his musical talents. The chance to play was probably a missed luxury for him. And the chance to learn magic was something he probably wanted more than anything now -- to be stronger in his new life.
She couldn't look at him anymore, it was evoking unpleasant feelings. She simply closed the flap in his face and collapsed onto her bedroll, and went to sleep...
The sun was starting to set when there was a noise outside her tent and the flap opened. Niyana stirred only slightly, but under the folds of her cloak she had stealthily put her fingers on her knife.
"My lady?" Gayne's voice whispered. He entered and crouched over her cautiously. When she didn't stir, he reached out to wake her.
Niyana sprung in that instant, grabbing his hand with one arm and jamming the butt of her knife into the boy's trachea. The blade was aimed towards her wrist, but she struck him with enough force that he wheeled backwards onto his rump and choked for air.
"First lesson," she whispered and placed her hand over his mouth to muffle his coughs. "Never approach a sleeping target. Kill it. Strike it. But never assume it's harmless." She met his confused and bewilder gaze and waited until her words sunk into his brain. When he calmed and nodded his understanding she let go of his mouth, and let him up. "Close the flap." She commanded. Gayne got up, pulled the flap shut and tied off the ends.
Niyana put the knife away and straightened the mat she had disheveled in her attack. Her mind was racing with what to do with this boy, she didn't know if she could trust him, but she desperately wanted to confide in him. She wanted to reveal herself so badly and she wanted him to side with her.
A soft flute melody came from the corner of her tent when, as instructed, Gayne had brought his reed flute and started to play for her. It was a gentle song, and very calming. Niyana shed her cloak and boots, then sat quietly and listened in the shadows of her tent. She lifted a knee to her chest and rested her chin on it. It wasn't a song she had heard before, so she closed her eyes and let the melody wash over her and soothe the troubles of the last day.
Despite the tranquil moment something in her just couldn't relax as she used to. Gayne's presence was a welcomed treat, but she found herself yearning to get closer to him. Perhaps it was the familiarity, or the lustful last few weeks, that made her constantly on edge. She caught him stealing glances at her out of the corner of her eye. This was getting dangerous; she couldn't risk him recognizing her.
"I'm going to sleep." She announced quietly. Gayne stopped playing. "I liked that song. It took me away from this hell for a brief moment. If you played that while I tried to sleep, I think I could sleep soundly for once."
"Um, Sir?" Gayne's expression was confused. He understood her request, but she could see the gears turning behind those eyes trying to determine her meaning.
Damn. She gave him reason to wonder. She had hoped he would just do as he was told. But the boy she knew had a mind of his own, and he wasn't too dull. Sending him away like this would make him wonder more of why she had asked him here.
"I lost a... comrade today." She said finally. Gayne's gaze shifted to the floor out of respect.
"I'm sure his death was hard for you." Gayne finally said. Ah, that was it. Eymara was close to Daeli, she wasn't grieving properly.
"I need someone to keep me company tonight." She finally said in the growing darkness. "That man was... monstrous. The way he killed Daeli will probably give me nightmares tonight. I need you to keep me from killing someone in my sleep." She said with an icy tone. She didn't know anything about Eymara, but neither did Gayne apparently other than that Daeli and her were close. If she played it rough and callous, and ordered the boy around, he wouldn't have too much to ponder.
"I think I understand now," Gayne said and started to play another song. Niyana's heart leapt in place when she heard it. She knew this one; it was one of her favorites. But it also brought tears to her eyes.
Niyana crawled under the blanket of her bed mat and bunched up her cloak for a pillow. Gayne didn't seem to mind as he played the song that soon grew slow and somber, almost sad-like. But to Niyana it was sad, because it was one of her favorite memories now faced with the harsh reality of what had become of them both. She felt her eyes starting to water, and she needed to stop it.
She rose from the mat and crawled over to the flutist. Gayne ignored her until she was too close not to notice and when his eyes opened from his playing she had a good hold on his shirt as she dragged him back to the mat on top of her. There she took his face with her hands and kissed him deeply on the lips. She needed the distraction, and he needed to stop playing that damn song.
Her fingers stroked his head and ran through his hair, as she tried to calm the pounding heart in his chest. Gayne was nervous; he apparently hadn't kissed very many girls. Niyana reached over and pulled the blanket over the two of them, and by then Gayne had relaxed a little. The warmth between them grew under the covers and he became more at ease with her advances. His hands caressed her cheeks timidly, then her arms, then her hair. But they never strayed any farther. This one would need permission first for that. In the back of her mind, she smiled devilishly at her perfect distraction -- Niyana, the princess, would never do this with a common boy.
She pulled his shirt over his head, and ran her fingers down his back. He was warm, and his back had started to take on some muscle from the hard life out here. Gayne was growing into a fine man. Niyana felt a sudden flush come to her cheeks as she realized how attracted she really was towards him. Perhaps, if he had stayed at the castle, and she never left to search for her brother... just maybe...
Niyana pushed him away suddenly, embarrassed and sadden at where her thoughts were going. That future would never happen now.
"I'm sorry!" Gayne blurted out and started to look for his shirt. Niyana snapped out of her depression streak and realized the uncomfortable and embarrassing position she had just put him into. Gently she put a hand on his as it reached for his shirt. She carried his hand and his gaze to her breast and let him feel her. His fingers trembled as they caressed her soft mound eagerly, knowing now the touch and feel of a woman's secret. She
placed his other had at the bottom of her shirt and slid it underneath. There she let go and left him to figure out the rest.
Gayne was a quick learner; he lifted up her shirt and pulled it over her head. As her arms came up and the garment pulled free, her breasts fell into his view. He stared bewildered at her body, from stomach to face his eyes drank her in. She was a woman now and not a warrior. Her muscles were toned, but still subdued by the feminine curves of her hips, stomach, chest and shoulders. Her golden hair fell behind her in curls and her green eyes bewitched him even in the darkness of their tent.
"My lady is beautiful..." Gayne gasped. Niyana moved closer, coming within mere inches of his chest and leaned her lips into his neck. Softly she kissed the tender skin and trailed her lips down to his broad shoulder.
Gayne shivered as the excitement and nervousness combined into one euphoric feeling that ran down his spine. He mirrored her lead, bringing his lips to her neck and kissing her softly. His hands even ventured back up to her breasts, where he cupped each one and rubbed them softly at first. Niyana let out a sigh of pleasure as he kissed down her shoulder. Her fingers found his back again and draped up and down his bare skin. He pushed forward, taking her back down to the mat. Then his lips grew bolder and traveled down her neck and chest to her breasts. There he suckled a nipple like a babe, pulling and licking at it as if he expected something to happen. Niyana was too enflamed with desire to complain. What he lacked in finesse he made up for in intensity.