Gypsy forced a smile that was all teeth. It looked more like a leer than a smile. “She is not going to be pleased about this. You know, I should leave you to the vicious little raptor, you bastard. But I kind of feel sorry for you having to face her, so all right. I’m in.”
Chapter 7
Thump...thud...thump...thud. The occasional snort and grunt was thrown out by his hyperia to disrupt the monotonous rhythm of its cloven hooves. Other than that, all was quiet. It was easy to get lulled into the mind-numbing boredom of riding the trails as hour-after-hour passed with only the birds to break the silence. They crossed through dense, piney woods, along narrow ridges, through quiet rivers, and back up steep mountain paths. Kharon had lived most of his life in the mountains and found their surroundings comforting. The cooler temperatures higher up were more pleasant than the lowlands and the only thing giving him solace right now.
Since leaving the outpost, they had camped two nights and were back in the saddle once more. The ride seemed endless. Traveling for such prolonged periods exhausted both the mind and body. It was almost like being on campaign, only without the excitement of a pending battle.
They must be getting close to the Queendom despite the unorthodox route Trajan had taken to avoid hunters. The ride was so boring one could easily get complacent and become oblivious to the subtle changes in the environment. Kharon knew from experience that those tiny topographical details were the reason many travelers ended up getting hopelessly lost.
Even though he trusted their guide, Trajan, Kharon made sure to pay close attention to those details. He had confidence in Trajan, but not enough to bet his life or the lives of the others on it. Anything could happen. They could get ambushed and Scarlet, who rarely left the safety of the Imperial city, would be totally lost and defenseless. If they survived, they’d never be able to make it to the Queendom alone.
Kharon glanced back at Desmond’s wife who was allowing her hyperia to follow close behind Trajan’s. She was doing a good job of keeping her infant quiet which reduced his worry. Watching her cradle and comfort the child, Kharon was struck by how stunning she was. A few long, wavy locks of red hair hung down in front of her face and her skin was pale and flawless. His gaze roamed down to the generous swell of her breasts. He let himself imagine her naked, her heavy tits full of milk and her body carrying the extra weight of a recent pregnancy.
Potent lust rushed hot sexual images through his mind of having rough, punishing sex with her. He imagined Scarlet beneath him, withering and opening her labia for his throbbing rod. Kharon forced himself to look away but it was too late. A sudden and fierce arousal filled his cock making him shift uncomfortably in his saddle. As an afterthought Kharon glanced at Desmond who pierced him with a death stare. Kharon couldn’t help it, he laughed once, then stared straight ahead.
“What’s so funny?” Scarlet asked.
“Nothing,” Kharon assured her. “Just boredom.”
Gypsy slipped through Kharon’s images quickly but seemed uninterested in his momentary sexual fantasy. She took a sip from her canteen, glanced at Desmond, then burst out laughing so hard water spilled from her nose and she began to cough. Trajan looked back at her and she fell into silence once again, feeling scolded.
Only Krull seemed disinterested. He was such a quiet, introspective man that Kharon wondered what he did for fun.
Missy, who had initially been riding with Trajan, had been handed off to Krull an hour ago. To her credit she went without complaint. Kharon watched the scout get more cautious and tense as time went on. He should have picked up on the Trajan’s nervousness a while ago but hadn’t. Now it seemed as though the scout was trying hard not to alarm anyone.
The trail took them into the forest again. The midday sun dappled down through the canopy of trees. The light coated the landscape in soft, illuminated tones, giving the illusion of tranquility. But the two other soldiers aside from himself, Gypsy and Desmond, knew something was not right. Kharon could read the strain in their movements and the way their eyes darted back and forth. But the most troubling of all was Trajan. He was very jumpy.
Gypsy’s thoughts stirred within him. Trajan has slowed our pace more and more in the past fifteen minutes. Something must have him spooked.
Kharon grinned, pleased she was listening to her instinct. You are correct. Watch him closely for subtle signals of danger. If he sees something alarming, he’ll stay silent and use hand signals so as not to alert our enemy.
Heavy clouds moved across the double suns and the whole forest darkened. Birds, insects and other wildlife immediately stopped their chatter. The air around them breathed silence. What seemed like a millennia of deafening quiet finally passed.
Trajan sat on his mount frozen, listening. Then after a while, he calmly rode back to Kharon and Desmond. The scout spoke in a low whisper. “There are booby traps everywhere. We need to move off the center of the trail and proceed along the left side with caution. Everyone is to ride in single file behind me.”
Kharon suspected they were being followed, but Trajan must have known as much for a while now. It was telling that their pursuers held back and didn’t attack, which probably meant their numbers were few. Most bounty hunters were competent with a blade, but they’d be no match for Desmond, Gypsy, and himself. The only problem would come if there were more than ten, which he doubted.
Kharon arched his back and rolled his shoulders. It would feel good to get some combat exercise, though he didn’t welcome the threat. “How many?”
Trajan scanned the tree line and licked his dry lips. “There are five, at least.”
Using hand signals Kharon told Desmond to move Scarlet, Missy and Krull into a defensive circle so they could surround and protect them.
“Call them out, Gypsy,” Kharon said.
There were two reasons why Kharon had decided to have Gypsy make the first contact with their pursuers. First, he hoped whoever was following them might underestimate Gypsy because she was a young, attractive woman. Second, it gave the impression she was in charge, despite his presence as a bull male. It made them appear weaker than they were. Being this close to the Queendom, there was a small chance their pursuers were female soldiers. If the hunters were male, they might mistake them for a female led Razorback patrol. Kharon really wanted to avoid a fight because of the children. Missy and Hazen would be the first thing the hunters went after during an attack.
Gypsy stood in her stirrups as if the extra few inches might make her louder. “Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” She smiled broadly at Kharon as if to say, ‘You want me to call them out like that?’
Kharon would have been more amused if he wasn’t so concerned about their predicament. Sometimes Gypsy expressed so many of her father’s brazen traits. Luckily though, when it came to making decisions, she was all Harlan. She knew when she was making a bad decision and usually stopped herself…though not always. Thankfully, she was getting better at commanding her emotions. Kharon had learned a lot about himself by listening to his instincts over the centuries.
The hunters emerged from behind a thick clump of trees and shrubs. There were five of them. They moved forward like black oil oozing from the ground; creeping, thick and dirty. All of them were caked in filth and dressed in mismatched clothes, faded and frayed. Some had old torn military insignias. A few even had some rusting pieces of body armor. Kharon knew they did it on purpose to look menacing and untouchable.
The sinister motley band was well armed despite their ragtag appearance. Kharon quickly made note of three swords, one trident, and a double ended spear. He was sure they had other weapons not visible. All of them had a generous bundle of scalps attached to their saddles.
Kharon wondered nervously if the bounties on Desmond and Gypsy required they be brought in Dead or Alive, not that it mattered now, he supposed.
The apparent leader had a long chain attached to his saddle with several AEssyrian skulls spiked through in a tall column. The skulls were so
numerous they almost touched the ground. He also had an impressive collection of scalps, more than any of the others. But most disturbing of all was the old, dusty black army uniform he wore. It was from an era before Megolyth’s empire. The uniform was torn in several places along the right shoulder like he’d barely escaped an animal attack. But the insignias were distinct. At his temples were long, tight braids that looked like they’d been there at least a year.
Desmond let out a long, agonized groan. “Makara.”
Kharon glanced away from the sleazy band for a heartbeat to glance at Desmond. “You know this man?”
“I don’t know him, only of him. He graduated from the academy around the same time Northe did. Gavin discharged him from the military a few years later and his tongue was taken out. I was just a kid when it happened. All I remember was Northe’s outrage when Makara was booted out. Northe kept saying how fucked up the whole situation was.”
Gypsy glared at the hunters. “What do you want?”
Makara made some hand signals back to her. They were so fast and precise they were hard to follow. Everyone looked over at Trajan.
“He said ‘the bounties, obviously’,” Trajan translated.
Kharon unsheathed his sword slowly so the bounty hunters could hear every metallic inch as it cleared the scabbard. He slipped into Gypsy’s mind and told her to wait. The hunters weren’t paying much attention to her and that pleased him. His wife’s swordsmanship needed to be an unexpected surprise.
Releasing his grip on his sword, Kharon let it drop to the ground. It made a heavy, ominous thud. “Well here we are, dirt bags! Come and get us.”
Makara’s eyes blazed with dark malevolence. He signed in quick, jerky movements to the man closest to Kharon. The hunter dismounted and took two steps toward Kharon to retrieve his sword.
Those few seconds were all Kharon needed to unlatch his meteor hammer from his belt. He let the spiked ball of the hammer freefall to the ground. The spikes embedded into the rich soil with a menacing thud. The bounty hunter froze and Kharon repressed a wicked smile. I’ll bet that got your attention, huh pussy boy? The meteor chain remained attached to Kharon’s belt. Its links jingled like wind chimes with every movement. The hunter cast an uneasy glance at Makara.
Kharon looked at Desmond. "Stay with Scarlet and Krull no matter what happens. Don’t let them lure us too far from each other.”
Desmond nodded and slid his saber free.
Kharon yanked the hammer from the ground and swung it over his head. It rotated in blurring circles until he launched the weapon at the hunter in front of him. The man never saw the spiked ball coming. The steel orb slammed into the hunter’s head with a loud crack. The hunter’s eyes rolled up in their sockets and he fell backward to the ground. No one doubted he was dead.
The hammer momentarily distracted the rest of the bounty hunters. Desmond seized on the confusion by pulling his hunting knife from his boot and throwing it at the one closest to him. The dagger found its mark and imbedded in the hunter’s throat.
Now there are only three left to dispose of.
Makara galloped forward and threw a rope around Gypsy’s torso. Before it could pull tight, she threw it off, drew her sword and charged him. Urging her hyperia forward she galloped close enough to cut the hunter’s arm. With two dead companions and the threat of losing his own life, Makara reined his mount around and rode off into the woods. The two surviving hunters were right behind him.
In his haste to depart, one of them rode over a trip wire and was caught up in a snare. The wires lifted both mount and rider high into the air, almost cutting them in half and catapulted them into the side of a giant Boca tree. There was a sickening thud and a bunch of birds took flight. Then there was silence once again. The other hunter never stopped to check on his companion. He continued his retreat and vanished over a hill riding in the opposite direction of the leader.
Well, that was easier than I thought it would be. The hunters were more cowardly than he’d been expecting. Thank the gods.
Kharon dismounted and sheathed his sword. He was still wary but felt better. He was hopeful the rest of their journey would be equally as disappointing.
Chapter 8
The two Imperial spies stood in front of Caraculla’s desk and waited for permission to speak. They had likely traveled a week with little sleep in order to reach Leviathan’s kingdom in so short a time. Both had their heads bowed in deference to his authority, but he knew their feigned respect was all for show. They feared and despised him; all they wanted was their money which made it all the more amusing to make them wait to be addressed. They didn’t expect nor did they deserve any courtesy—they were traitors, after all.
Caraculla leisurely ate his dinner. As he picked up a piece of meat from a bowl filled with blood he caught the younger one glancing at the scars on his neck. Well, let him get a good, long look. It was bound to make an indelible impression. “Speak,” he finally said after wiping his mouth.
The two officers exchanged glances and then the elder of the two cleared his throat.
“It appears the Emperor Megolyth’s reign is finished. The empire is suffering from hyper-inflation and many businesses have left already. The nobles have been having endless meetings. The army is in confusion and—”
“Where is General Theron?” he growled, cutting him off.
The younger officer frowned and seemed to shirk under Caraculla’s cold gaze. “He was arrested by the emperor for insubordination, Excellency. The general was held for several days and when the emperor ran out of money to feed the prisoners, he ordered them all killed.”
The words settled like lava rocks inside his skull. It couldn’t be. This was a bad dream, not real life. Suddenly he was sick to his very core. He pushed his food away.
The older officer rubbed his hands together. “I went down to the cells to free him in the chaos, but he had already been butchered outside his cell. I’m so sorry, Excellency.”
“Is there any way he could still be alive?” Caraculla asked.
“No. He was cold, Excellency.”
Caraculla let the knowledge settle inside him. This couldn’t be true, it was too unbelievable. Gavin had survived over eight hundred years of assassination attempts. To die like this? Impossible. “And his body? Where is his body?”
“I imagine they burned it like the rest, sir,” the younger one said.
Caraculla fought to keep his expression neutral. “And what of the general’s daughters?”
“No one knows, Excellency. They went missing shortly afterward. The emperor put a bounty on the Theron children as well as his daughter’s husband, so it’s only a matter of time before someone finds them.”
Caraculla felt the corner of his mouth twitch at the mention of Kharon as Gypsy’s husband. He ignored the regret, instead reaching into his desk. Removing two small canvas bags of coins he tossed one to each man. “Spread the word. I will pay three times the bounty the emperor is offering for any of the Therons, but only if they are brought here alive and in good health. If they are harmed in any way, the person responsible will be begging me for a merciful death. Understood?”
“Yes, Excellency.” They bowed their heads.
Caraculla waved them out. “Return when you have more relevant news.”
“As you wish, Excellency.” The officers bowed again and hurried out of his office.
Caraculla leaned back in his chair. His broken heart was a tangled mess of agony and rage. Both emotions flooded his mind as he was bombarded with memories. What kind of madman kills their most accomplished general? Only an ungrateful fool of an emperor who needed to die slowly. Megolyth had come close to executing Caraculla, but Gavin had prevented it. And now that act of friendship and loyalty had cost his mentor his life. Caraculla’s fury boiled. There was only one remedy for this toxic anger—revenge.
Overcome with emotion, Caraculla buried his face in his hands, pushing his nails into his hairline. How had everything come to t
his? Why had he failed Gavin so completely? And if Gavin was truly dead, what had happened to Gypsy and Missy? Although Caraculla still nurtured a blind hatred for Kharon, he was glad the commander was a competent soldier. At least he could make himself useful keeping Gypsy and Missy safe.
When he could get his demeanor under control, he summoned his senior commander. The officer arrived a few minutes later and stood at attention. “You requested my presence, Excellency?”
“What is going on at the Imperial border?”
The commander didn’t speak for a moment and appeared caught off guard by the question. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t follow you. What do you mean?”
Caraculla sighed. Gavin had the best trained, most disciplined soldiers he had ever dealt with. Being among lesser military personnel was proving to be quite challenging. Caraculla started again slowly enunciating every word. “Are there still Imperial guards on the border posts with us?”
The commander nodded his head in confusion. “As far as I know. We don’t routinely run patrols past the buffer zone so I’m not certain, sir. Why?”
“Find out for certain. If there are, I want an accurate count of exactly how many soldiers and what they’re armed with.”
Chapter 9
Harlan collapsed on her bed for a well-deserved nap. The metal crossbars beneath the mattress creaked as she rolled around, looking for a comfortable spot. This afternoon she had finally finished treating the last of the patients who had suffered the venom sac mutilations. Leaving them would be difficult because she had become friendly with most of them and wouldn’t be able to follow up with their care.
Flexing and curling her fingers several times, she winced at the overwhelming agony. Not only were her hands throbbing with pain, but she could barely control her fingers. She had even resorted to hiding in the bathroom to soak them in hot water. Her insistence at minimizing any rest until she finished all the surgeries had left her hands hopelessly crippled. The anti-inflammatory drugs had worn off just as she had finished her last case. Ignoring Strom’s protests she had administered more to herself, but they were no longer effective. She had pushed herself beyond the limit and could only hope she would recover.
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