Death came out of the shadows and swallowed him whole.
He welcomed it.
Caesar watched the man named Tucker lose control and murder his own heathen soldiers. It was unexpected but excellent. He was quite unhinged and Caesar had special aptitude for eliciting the very worst from others. Causing imbalance, feelings of inadequacies and shortfalls were his specialty. He smiled to himself. Tucker was making things so much easier for Caesar.
The fragment would welcome him as leader.
And later... Clara as his bride.
He smiled. The grin looked wolfish in the night, as with any predator.
*
Calia came upon just the thing she was looking for. A small outcropping of stones, looking very much like fallen boulders, greeted the women, the early dawn painting them a dull orange.
Clara placed her hand upon the biggest stone, four times her size, smooth and pebbled at the same time and looked to Calia. At present, Clara's thirst was its own beast, but she remained silent.
Calia appraised their shelter and looked behind her at the delicate sphere-dweller.
She was stronger than she seemed. Calia could see the travel-weariness on her yet she did not complain. “We rest here,” Calia said carefully, watching for Clara's reaction.
“As you say,” Clara replied with weariness.
“Come,” Calia said, pointing at the boulders.
Clara looked curiously at the boulders. Where would they be going? She followed Calia's strong back and they disappeared between the two largest boulders and there, a crevice of gloom opened up like a night blooming orchid.
The cave was hidden to all but those who knew of its existence. She gave Calia a smile. It was the first spot of happiness Clara had felt since her journey had changed course.
It may have been the play of light, Calia was not sure, but as a wedge of daylight fell upon Clara as she entered into the ambient darkness of the cave, a spark of recognition ignited inside her and in two strides she was in front of Clara, towering over the smaller woman.
Clara saw her come and rooted to where she stood.
She was not easily frightened.
Calia's throat slits opened, splayed and pink, agitated. “You are Band.”
“Aye,” Clara responded.
“You told me not,” Calia said, angry.
“You did not ask. You were entirely too busy with my rescue.”
Calia whipped her hand out and Clara flinched instinctively. “I will not beat you,” Calia said, searching the royal's eyes, seeing much. “Though someone has.” Instead, she gently placed her hand on the smooth throat of the royal. “No throat slits... where might they be?”
Clara shrugged under the discomfort of her touch, “They appear whilst in salted water... or, when I feel threatened.”
Calia gave a light stroke of her throat. “You do not feel threatened now?” Her eyes flicked to Clara's.
“No,” Clara said, meeting her gaze boldly.
“Good,” Calia said, dropping her hand.
“Tell me how a royal of the sphere came to be part-savage.”
Clara responded with, “Methinks I need water and I will tell a tale of length.”
Calia bounded up, fetching the flask, then got about gathering brush and firewood for a small fire inside the cave.
She was an expert fire starter, the smoke curling and escaping out a natural borne escape hatch at the apex of the cave.
Calia followed the direction of the smoke and commented out loud, “We keep the fire small so the smoke does not draw unwanted attention.”
Clara looked at it, startled. It would alert everyone to human presence. Yet they needed the warmth. What she would do to bathe in a hot spring. Clara sighed.
When Clara had her fill from the flask, she settled on a stone by the fire and watched Calia as the flames made shadows dance over her face.
Clara recounted the tale of the sphere, her natural mother, Rowenna. She even dove into the complicated mess of her courtship. She ended with the horrible circumstance of the fragment's insurgence using the salted pellets to destroy the sphere. All nineteen, in actuality.
Calia listened intently, never breaking the flow of Clara's words even once. Clara finished and was silent, waiting for Calia's words.
Finally she spoke, “The grandest problem, as I see as such, are the salted pellets used by the fragment. The Travelers have forced the demise of the spheres by delivering its method of destruction to the fragment. Why?”
Clara told her of the genetic situation. How the Band was engineered to police the fragment, how they were the protectors of all.
Calia waved that away. “We are the protectors of those that cannot defend themselves. The fragment does not need our protection.”
Clara nodded, but added, “'Tis true. However, once the spheres melt away and no longer exist, my people will be out in the wilderness, vulnerable to the fragment, who are made hardy by their many seasons Outside.”
“Aye,” Calia said, poking a stick into the embers to increase the heat while minimizing the smoke.
“Perhaps there be a way to slow or halt the progress of the salt degradation?” she asked, looking at Clara for confirmation.
“If there were, I know not what it is,” Clara replied, defeated.
They were quiet for several moments.
Then Clara said, “Thank you for your diligence on my behalf.”
Calia barked out a laugh and Clara jumped. “You are most welcome... sister.” Her eyes sparkled and Clara smiled back. She was a unique female, untamed femininity wrapped into an exquisite package of lethal violence and clever ingenuity. Clara fancied her.
Very much.
They held each other's gaze, taking the measure of each other and finding it good.
CHAPTER TEN
Daniel stroked the snowy feathers of the pigeon and extracted the note from the leather collar that rode its back in a harness, the tube of lightweight hammered copper holding a message.
He knew to check the pen for a message, bringing the bird inside the sphere tunnel, to defend it against the weather. A courier from the king of Kentucky had been dispatched. The fragment had struck the sphere while Clara sojourned there and the damn cousin of Prince Frederic had taken her into the wilderness of Outside.
Caesar, his name whispered through Daniel's mind as he plucked the message from the pigeon's tube.
In Bracus' neat script he read the message.
Twice.
Daniel,
It has come to pass that Queen Clara has been taken Outside, very likely as part of a collusive alliance between the fragment and Caesar, the next in line for the royal throne of this kingdom.
We ask that you meet us at the heated spring very near our clan as soon as you are able.
Make haste, my brother.
Bracus Goodman
Daniel crumpled the note in his fist, releasing the bird into the care of the sentry.
He turned on his heel and strode toward the interior of the sphere, the small holes caused by the salt pellets allowing the chilled winter air to mingle with the steam that escaped for cleansing.
He hoped that he wouldn't meet with Charles but knew that there might be no way to avoid it.
Reaching his small dwelling, he tore open the door and gathered the things he'd need for such travel. He intimately knew the mindset of the fragment.
He chose his weaponry accordingly.
As he shut his door to leave he turned and ran straight into Charles.
“I have heard,” he said.
Daniel didn't have time for his idiotic commentary.
“Good for you. Now, if you'll get out of my way, I go to rendezvous with the Band even as you seek to delay me.”
Charles glowered, Clara was in danger, he must attend her. “Let me accompany you, Daniel,” Charles asked, grabbing at the rough tunic he wore. Daniel whirled to Charles, their chests almost touching.
Charles did not back down. This half-b
reed would not intimidate him. Especially in light of their queen somewhere in the wilderness of Outside while the holes made by the salt widened as they spoke.
“I could use somebody else that cares for her safety as much as I. But you've proven yourself to be selfish and hurtful with her. There are fragment. This is almost certainly their hand in all this.” Daniel flung a strong arm about the vicinity.
“I do care for her,” Charles hissed. “I care when she does not return my regard. When she does not safeguard herself when danger presents itself in a neat package.” Charles' fists clenched, his anger at the surface at every opportunity.
“Fine. Don't let your jealousy of my brother cloud our objective.”
Charles paused, trying to make sense of the modern jargon. After a few seconds he responded, “I will not impede her safety, or your reconnaissance efforts.”
“I'm glad we see eye to eye on this, Pierce.”
Charles interpreted the expression correctly when he replied, “Aye... in this we do.”
Clearly put, Daniel thought. In that one thing they agreed.
He walked off, his rucksack slung between his shoulder blades, his waterproof boots atop wool socks.
He didn't wait for the foppish Charles to follow. Daniel was a leader, let the other man follow if he chose.
*
Tucker assembled the huge fragment. Both Lyle's and his own, now numbering eighty. Strong numbers, not all of them were fighters. However, it was good to have so many who were expendable. The thought was a happy one. He missed Daniel with an almost unbearable greed. Now he'd been a warrior. A sore loss for the fragment.
He must've died in the war inside the sphere. Tucker had never known what had become of him. The din of the fighting, the survival of himself was paramount. Daniel would have to fend for himself. Tucker remembered the last moment he had laid eyes on him.
Tucker looked up, a blade in each hand and saw Daniel, equally armed.
Two of the Band stood ready to charge him. His eyes sought and found the tiny queen as she had staggered unsteadily to her feet, the dead prince nearby. She had stumbled toward Daniel and even in his haste to be gone, he was curious. Was she going to charge Daniel? Twice her size?
But no! Tucker saw her throw herself in his arms and he wrapped her against him protectively.
The Band came for Daniel then just as the steel clash of a long sword whipped by Tucker's face, the breeze of the weapon causing his hair to lift. Tucker swung in the direction of the attack, engaging one of the royal guards.
He battled briefly. Finally he could linger no longer and making his way into the tunnel to escape, he hazarded a glance behind him but couldn't see Daniel.
Dead, he was sure. Or worse. Having held that queen against his body like he owned her.
Like he had the right.
Which, of course, he did not.
Tucker had run until his sides seized, bursting Outside through the portal of the sphere tunnel.
He sucked in lungfuls of air.
Freedom had never smelled so sweet.
Tucker came back to himself as the vile smell of Lyle wafted toward him, his few teeth in a grin so foul-smelling even Tucker backed away.
“We're ready,” he said, pulling the reins of his horse hard, the animal reacted in the expected way, rearing and neighing.
“Fool! These are worth more than hard treatment,” Tucker said with a glower. Lyle was valuable for some applications but in the daily travel he was rough on everything. Horses, gear, everything. Tucker wished almost daily for the pleasure of beating him.
Lyle shrugged. “They're stupid animals.”
The comparison struck Tucker between the eyes. Yes... dumb animals.
Two fragment ran up to where Tucker and Lyle stood. “We've found tracks.”
Tucker's eyes narrowed and the pair backed up. They were privy to the murder of their compatriots but an hour before. The blood of it still soaked into the tunic Tucker wore.
Tucker unsheathed his dirk and slapped it once against his clothed thigh, boots rising to his knee, crisscrossed leather, waterproofed for the cold and wet necessitated by the season.
The fragment paused in his answer.
“Who?” Tucker ground out.
The man looked at his feet then met the gaze of Tucker. “It's like Miller said, female. They were female, both. One smaller than the other.”
Tucker stalked off, pacing away from the group. He was beyond incensed that a weak female could steal away the queen. They were fragment. They were the superior ones. The chosen of the Travelers. The proof of that were supplies that they had stumbled on that led them to the unforeseen destruction of the spheres. Ripe plums, ready to be plucked and harvested by the fragment.
No matter, so those two hadn't been lying. Whatever, he'd find this female. Make her suffer for her aggression against him.
He smiled.
It would be pleasant. As all brutality against females was. There were so few that he didn't get to partake in his perversity near enough. For every fifteen males there was but one female. He thought on that, turning it over in his mind.
It would be a great moment when he came upon the one that had snuck in without regard to her own safety.
He had a feeling that she would not be broken easily.
Tucker turned and in one move sheathed his weapon as he jogged toward his mount. The air whistled unpleasantly as he ran, his ruined nose not managing his needs for oxygen.
It never had since that one of the Band had beaten him.
Maybe he'd get his chance at him as well.
Tucker could only hope.
He jumped on his horse, and keeping the reins firm, he was mindful of its mouth. After all, horses were tools to exploit for the fragment, like everything.
*
Calia looked at Clara's clothing and saw that although warm, it was cumbersome to move in. Calia's own clothing was the perfect apparel for the weather, neat and close to the body, it was perfect for insulation and wicking of moisture. Calia took out some dried foodstuffs from her rucksack and handed a portion to Clara. Wondering what other attire she could fashion for the royal, she rummaged inside her rucksack for clothing, pulling out a small pair of breeches, taken on a raid. She had thought them practical for just this occurrence. Many females that were quite young had fallen into her care, using what she had stolen to allow them to move more quickly.
Clara would use these now.
Clara looked at the boy's breeches that Calia held as she tried to be ladylike in eating the food Calia had proffered her and gave up. She shoveled a handful in her mouth in a move so graceless that she was embarrassed but her overwhelming hunger superseded those concerns utterly.
When her mouth was free to speak she asked, “What... would you have me wear that garment?” Clara asked, unbelieving.
Calia nodded. “Your wardrobe is the antithesis of what is needed to travel in. We must make a large loop, travel back around to whence you hail from. A wide berth...” she made a great circle with her finger, “I cannot be sure what the leader of the fragment may anticipate as our movement. If it were I,” she paused, placing her chin in her hand, balancing the length of her arm on her knee by an elegant elbow. Clara thought she would make quite a lady as she was naturally graceful. But her aggression was such that it would be putting a round peg in a square hole. “I would think on the origin of my quarry. They will not split their numbers as that is the primary strength of the fragment. I would, if I were leader. But, of course, I was not.” Calia said that last with such contempt that Clara looked at her sharply.
“I was warrior enough to lead if I had been allowed,” she said emphatically.
Clara nodded, she could certainly see that potential.
Calia stood suddenly, stretching. “There is a hot spring very near here. We can travel there, bathe, change the clothes you wear and drive hard to your home sphere.”
Her eyebrows rose in question.
Clara stood a
s well. “That is a wise endeavor.”
Calia walked toward Clara. She had learned in their short acquaintance that for her feminine exterior, a clever mind lay in wait. “What say you?”
“The Band follow me. They would never leave me unattended with the threat that has been wrought one day past.”
Calia thought. Lighting on an idea she said, “We will leave a message. They ken reading, yes?”
Clara nodded. She knew that both Rowenna and Bracus did. She was not sure to what extent Matthew understood. It was not emphasized in the clans the way it was inside the spheres.
“Yes, I believe whoever follows may be able to decipher whatever we inscribe.”
They used the burnt embers of the fire and wrote something simple:
Kingdom of Ohio.
It served a dual purpose, the Band would know that it was she. The fragment may not. It was the best they could do. It would also serve as directional.
They had everything packed and ready to depart when Clara suddenly remembered something that would authenticate the script further.
“Wait but a moment, Calia,” Clara called out softly.
She worked her fingers through her hair and was able to unravel one pearl from the depths of the silken strands. Pulling it out, she laid it astride the inscription, the creaminess of it softly glowing on the niche of the boulder that protruded directly above the message, a strand of its silk binding flowing from it like a beautiful flag.
Perfect.
Clara turned, thinking it the perfect token that she had been there.
It was.
For when Tucker came upon it, he saw in his mind's eye her sleeping form against Caesar, exactly remembering the pearls that had winked like the small jewels they were, embedded in hair the color of the finest wine from the sphere they had just molested with salt.
He was enlightened as to her destination from that point forward.
He and the fragment would intercept her travels. Queen Clara and the mystery female.
savage 04 - the savage vengeance Page 7