Savior

by Loren K. Jones

  * * *

  Robin was also relaxing, waiting for the chance to feel for Java. Over the days they had worked out a simple code between them. Java knew that Robin was frightened/angry/anxious. Robin knew Java was nervous/determined/angry. Tonight, Java was conveying a different feeling. Triumphant was being added to the rest in an attempt to convey the message that they were being successful in their quest. Then came the hard part. Java concentrated on her own body, her belly and vagina, and tried to convey the bloated, slightly sick feeling she always got during her moons. Robin was as aware of Java’s cycle as she was of her own, and Java was trying to convey the message that something was going to happen during her next moon.

  * * *

  Robin sighed and sat up, breaking the rapport they had reached. “I’m going to kill her! She’s still determined to stay there, and she’s feeling triumphant. She’s also trying to convince me that she’s on her moon cycle, but that’s more than a week away.”

  “On her cycle? Or waiting for her cycle? Could there be something happening a week from now that we need to know about, or watch for?” Shair asked, holding Robin’s hand tightly. Her frustration at not being able to rescue Java was taking its toll on her patience.

  Robin nodded. “Yes, that could be it. But what?”

  * * *

  Java sighed and rolled toward the room. “She’s gone. I don’t know if she understood. All I got at the end was frustration and anger. Directed at me.”

  “Now why would Robin be mad at you, Java? You’re just sitting in the middle of the most dangerous spot on the face of the continent, daring Frander to find you. What could bother her about that?” Mayrie asked with a touch of exasperation.

  Java’s glare silenced her, but her sisters nodded their agreement. Maygren stretched and pushed Mayrie off the bed. “Be nice, or you get the floor. Besides, if she’s mad at Java, just think what she must be feeling toward us.”

  Morning found them again cleaning a drunkard’s house, but this time they were very close to the palace. The man was the head groom in the emperor’s stables, and his little hovel was close by the gates. He had no idea why he would have hired some cleaning women and had protested when he had come to his senses. Jah’Moke invoked the name of the most dangerous crime lord in the city, and the man blanched. Thirty-five coppers wasn’t a lot, and it was infinitely less than having his pitiful house burned to the ground with him in it. They did an excellent job for all that, and he was actually quite pleased when they left late that day. Jah’Moke had been watching for his chance to sneak into the palace, and there was a caravan of goods entering the palace gates as he led the women out of the house. Melding into the caravan, the five separated and took up positions next to different wagons. None of the guards noticed, and they passed unhindered into the palace of Emperor Frander.

  As soon as they were clear of the gates and the guards, they dropped back out and regrouped at the stables. Maylee took a deep breath as Maygren joined them. “Damn, I almost wet myself.”

  “This isn’t the best idea you’ve ever had, Java,” Mayrie agreed, her wide eyes betraying her fear. “I never wanted to be this close to Frander again.”

  “Well, Sam isn’t coming to us, so we have to go to her,” Java snarled softly, angry at the triplets. “Come on, let’s find someone to question.” Moving into the stable, she watched for one of the grooms to be alone. Grabbing him, she and Jah’Moke pulled him into a back stall.

  “We aren’t going to hurt you,” Java said first. The man’s eyes were frightened, even if his face was otherwise placid. “We just want some gossip. You hear the lords and officers talking, don’t you?”

  The man nodded, “Yes.”

  “Do they talk about the duchesses and dukes who serve Frander?” Java asked softly. They had to be careful about what they asked, and how they asked it, or they would get hours’ worth of useless information as he told them everything that he knew about the subject.

  Again the man nodded, “Yes.”

  “Can you tell us where Duchess Samantha of Lender’s Dale is?”

  The man nodded, “Yes.”

  “Can you tell us where Duke Panit of Lender’s Dale is?”

  Again the man nodded, “Yes.”

  Java began to grin. “Can you show us a secret way to get to them?”

  The man shook his head, “No.”

  “Damn! This was going so well.” Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Java began questioning him again. “Can you show us a safe way to get to them?”

  The man nodded, “Yes.”

  “Yes!” Mayrie exclaimed softly.

  “Show us the safe way to Duchess Samantha,” Java commanded, and the man immediately stood and began walking. Following closely on his heels, Jah’Moke led them into the palace proper. The man led them on a roundabout circuit of the edifice, and they all used their training to note as much as they could.

  Mayrie spotted Sam first and almost gave them away. Sam was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the stones around a fountain in a courtyard. The man stopped and pointed and Mayrie started forward, only to be stopped by her sisters. A richly dressed man approached Sam and led her away, his hand caressing her butt and drifting up to her breasts. Sam hadn’t seen them, and Java was glad of it. She couldn’t stand the idea of Sam feeling betrayed by them not doing anything.

  Jah’Moke turned and ordered, “Lead us to Duke Panit.” Looking at Java, he said, “If Sam isn’t reachable, then maybe her husband is.” The man obediently led them deeper into the palace, and into the one place they most wanted to avoid. But Jah’Moke had failed to specify the safe way to Panit, and the man led them by the most direct path. Through Frander’s private chambers.

  The triplets recognized the fat man sitting at the desk and immediately linked and shielded, alerting Frander to their presence. Turning in his chair, he also shielded himself. Standing ponderously, he waddled over to them.

  “Well, well. Who have we here?” he asked as he circled them. “If it isn’t those three insufferable brats. Do you have any idea what you cost me? I could have had Greencastle and the rest of the duchies with me by now if not for you. Why do you resist? I offer you the best world. Why do you insist on fighting the inevitable?”

  “We are not slaves!” Mayrie snarled. “You and your slave masters will never rule us.”

  “We will die first, and take you with us,” Maylee added as she initiated an attack against him, to probe his defenses.

  Frander’s shields flared briefly, and he laughed. “Oh, come now. You could do better than that when I had you before. Try this technique.” He raised a finger and suddenly the triplets’ shield reverberated and fluxed. Java and Jah’Moke were both thrown out of the enclosed area, but Frander ignored them. Only the triplets and their magic were a threat to him. His shields were proof against any mundane attack.

  Mayrie steadied her sisters and tried to reshield Java, but Frander was attacking again, feeling their defenses for weaknesses. Snarling in defiance, the triplets attacked and sent Frander to his knees.

  Frander suddenly didn’t seem so sure of himself. “I had hoped to defeat you, to bring you into my family, but you leave me no choice. I must destroy you now and lose your magnificent talent.” Suiting his actions to his words, he attacked the triplets with all his power and skill, using techniques the triplets had never even heard of, and had no defense against. Java and Jah’Moke watched in horror as the triplets were driven back, step by step, until a wall stopped them.

  Jah’Moke threw a knife at Frander, only to see it flash against his shields. It did, however, distract Frander for an instant, and the triplets managed a blow of their own. Staggering back, he turned his attention away from the triplets for a moment, but Maygren called him back, slashing at his shields with remarkable fury.

  Java had seen Frander’s reaction to the knife and began throwing her knives one by one at the Mage and his shields. And at every flash, Frander lost a touch of his concentration, allowing the
triplets to strike another blow. Jah’Moke joined in and soon they had thrown all their knives, watching as they flared and disappeared one by one. But they had accomplished something. The triplets were no longer in distress and were battling back against Frander.

  It was still an uneven contest, and the triplets soon began to lose ground again. Java saw and reacted, not thinking of anything but helping her girls, and attacked. Snatching the dirk from the small of her back, Java ran at Frander, screaming at the top of her lungs. I have to save my girls! She used a chair and a table as a launching pad to gain the little extra surprise that an attack from above would provide and dove to her death.

  But Java didn’t die.

  With a sensation she would later describe as diving into a tub of strawberry jam, Frander’s shields passed her through. The shields recognized in Java and her dirk a magic they found acceptable. The magic they themselves were formed of. The one magic Frander had never thought to shield himself against: His own.

  Java dropped onto Frander’s back, dazed and confused. Her confusion was nothing compared to Frander’s. Her body colliding with his back had driven him to his knees, and he was shaking his head as Java scrambled to her feet. The triplets had stopped their attack when they saw Java dive at Frander, and he tried to turn his attention to her, but Java recovered first. Using all her strength, Java grasped the dirk in both hands and drove it into and through the back of Frander’s skull. The thick, heavy, sixteen-inch-long blade penetrated flesh and bone, and her desperate strength drove it in until the hilt slammed against the layered fat on at the back of his neck. Emperor Frander the Utopian, ruler of eight duchies, fell forward with four inches of steel protruding from his mouth, dead before he hit the floor. His body slammed down face first against the thick, oak boards of the palace floor, driving the point of the dirk deeply into the wood.

  Jah’Moke scrambled over to Java’s side and clasped her into a tight embrace. “Are you all right?”

  “Be damned if I know! Wha’ the hells happened?” Java slurred, looking at the enormous carcass lying beside her.

  The triplets reached them then and wrapped Java in their arms. “We were so frightened when you attacked. How did you do that,..” Mayrie began.

  “...and what the hells did you think you...” Maylee continued.

  “...were doing? You could have been killed!” Maygren finished.

  Java smiled softly, then laughed. “Even dead, they’re whiplashing me.”

  Jah’Moke looked up in alarm as screams and shouts began to echo through the palace. Frander’s spells and his control had died with him, and all those he had enslaved had come to themselves.

  Including his most powerful and trusted generals.

  The generals had all been his apprentices, and he had bound them with spells of obedience and devotion that far exceeded those that held the common folk he had conquered.

  Lord General Tyrus Cederquist of His Majesty Frander’s Army, the most powerful of Frander’s subjugated Adepts, walked cautiously into the emperor’s private chamber and looked around. The first thing he saw filled his heart with glee.

  The emperor was lying face down on the floor in a spreading pool of blood, a knife hilt protruding from the back of his neck. A knot of people was on the floor several feet away, huddled together around one central figure. Ignoring them, he walked over to his master’s body and began laughing. His companions, Lord General Rudon Peyton, Lord General Chrilin Adair, Lord General Roswald Doubek, Lord General Nestor Vassal, and Lord General Rockhester Chalmers of His Majesty Frander’s Army soon joined him, though with slightly different reactions.

  Adept Nestor walked over to where Java and her friends huddled together. “And just who do we have here?”

  Java struggled to her feet, with the triplets moving to get between her and the general. “I am Princess Java Mountainstand of Hiddendell,” Java said defiantly, and with far more energy than she was feeling.

  “I thought we ordered you killed or captured,” Adept Rockhester said softly. “You seem remarkably alive and uncontrolled.”

  “No one controls me,” Java snarled, glaring at the general from under lowered eyebrows.

  “Yes, so we’ve heard,” Adept Rudon observed from the other side of Frander’s body. “You are a tremendous pain in the butt, Princess, though you’ve done the world a great service by killing our master. Who are these?” he gestured to the triplets.

  “We are your enemies,” Maygren growled, glaring at him with burning eyes. “You can’t stand against the three of us, even if you join forces.”

  “The Salem Triplets,” Adept Tyrus said from beside his companions. “You three destroyed our army, and a number of our most powerful companions.” Nodding his head sharply, he folded his hands in front of his chest and bowed. “I yield to you without contest.”

  His surrender surprised the other generals. They had all assumed he would become the next emperor, but, apparently, he had other ideas. Walking over to Frander’s body, he drew his sword and severed the head, taking several swings to hack through the thick flesh and bone. Even without the support of the rest of his body, Frander’s head remained where it was. He had to wiggle the hilt of the dirk using his foot to free it from the floor. Then he lifted the head in both hands and looked at his companions, saying, “Bring them.”

  The five remaining generals formed up around Java and her friends and, in a surprise move, managed to separate and shield the triplets, against their loud objections. Unfortunately, the generals were all powerful Adepts, and individually the triplets were still just Masters. Java didn’t struggle. Whatever happened, Frander was dead, and Merrit was outside the city. Without the control of his spells, there was no army to stop her. They would be avenged a thousand times over.

  Adept Tyrus led them to the front of the palace, where an angry mob had gathered. The mob was mostly made up of guards and servants from the palace, but some people had filtered in from the surrounding area. Adept Tyrus paused at the top of the steps and waited for the noise to ebb.

  “My friends, Emperor Frander is dead!” he shouted, holding up Frander’s head in both hands.

  A cheer rolled through the crowd as the words were taken up like a chant. “Frander’s dead! Frander’s dead! Frander’s dead! Frander’s dead!” echoed through the palace and out into the city. The chant was taken up by thousands of throats throughout the city as their freedom was celebrated over and over.

  Adept Tyrus tossed Frander’s head down the steps, silencing the crowd as the sound of his skull bouncing and popping like a gourd echoed through the courtyard.

  “We are no longer enslaved to Frander and his ambitions. We are no longer enslaved to Frander’s spells. We are no longer enslaved to Frander’s ideas. But we have no leader now, and leadership we need. There is a person here who can lead us. A person who deserves to lead us!” he shouted as he walked down several steps and turned. Signaling his companions to his side, he looked up. “The person who freed us. All hail Empress Java!”

  “All hail Empress Java! All hail Empress Java! All hail Empress Java!” the chant began, gaining volume as more and more people agreed that their new leader should be Java.

  Adept Tyrus had a plan in mind, and he softly explained to Java what he was doing. “Frander’s spells might be gone, but the lingering effect will make people very susceptible to suggestion for several days to come. In that time, we must establish order, or civil war and anarchy will rule, costing us all the progress our people have made since the Revolution.”

  Java’s reaction was short, sweet, and typically Java. Abruptly sitting on the top step, she put her head in her hands and said just two words.

  “Oh shit!”

  CHAPTER 13: EMPRESS JAVA

  It’s not so funny when it happens to you, is it?

  Master Scholar Prince Stavin Zel’Andral, “The Coravian Conflict”

  JAVA SAT IN A SMALL CHAMBER with Jah’Moke and the triplets. Samantha and Panit had yet to be found, but
they were being actively searched for. The assembled Adepts were there as well, and Java was questioning Adept Tyrus.

  “Why in the name of all the Gods did you do that? Why would you proclaim me empress?”

  “Yes, Ty, I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Adept Nestor said from the side of the room. “Why her?” The other Adepts nodded their agreement with the question.

  “Because, my friends, none of us dare take the throne,” Adept Tyrus answered, standing to walk to the center of the room and face Java squarely, glancing at his friends. “It would be suicide for another Mage to take the throne. None of us has the key to the spells Frander used on the people. It was only his spells that kept the empire together, and without them the people would rise up and sweep us away like the tide.

  “All that aside, don’t you remember why we ordered her death?” He glanced at his companions before giving Java a lopsided grin. “Duchess Samantha was never mentioned without mentioning her guardian, Java Mountainstand. I contended from the start that it was Princess Java who had defeated us, not Duchess Samantha. Sitting here before us, we have proof that I was right. It was Princess Java who rescued these three,” he waved a hand at the triplets, “and became their guardian. It was Princess Java who rescued Duchess Samantha and became her guardian as well. It was Princess Java who financed Duchess Samantha’s fight against us. It has been Princess Java who has beaten us from the start.”

  Adept Roswald shook his head and walked forward to face Java. His expression was exceedingly bitter as he faced his new empress. “I really hate it when he’s right. Smug bastard. But he is.” Kneeling, he bowed his head briefly. “Empress Java, I offer you my service and fealty.” He was joined by the others, with Adept Tyrus kneeling last and pledging his loyalty to her.

  Java stood unsteadily, looking at them with awe and trepidation. Looking down at them, she realized that, just as with being made a lady, and then a princess, she had no real choice in the matter. It has to be this way. Squaring her shoulder, she nodded. “Gentlemen, I accept your service.”