Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Elaina hesitated. Seeing he was making progress ,Marcus continued: “Stay with me. We are only just getting to know each other. I don't want to lose you.”

  “I don't want to leave, Marcus, but you must understand—lives hang in the balance, and not just yours and mine. I am the Guardian of this world. While I am here playing lady of the courts there are others whose lives might be saved if I were but doing my duty.”

  “That might be so, Elaina, but what about your life? With all you do watching over others, when do you take time for yourself? When was the last time you danced or took a moment for yourself?”

  Elaina struggled to answer. It was not that she didn't already know the answer, but because she didn't want to say it aloud.

  Marcus waited, unwilling to break the silence that had descended upon the gardens. Elaina fidgeted nervously. He was still waiting for an answer she gave it: “I've never spent a night dancing, Marcus. Don't get me wrong, I have time to myself, but it's the only kind of time I have. I live alone, I eat alone. Quite frankly, Marcus, I'm tired of being alone.”

  “Then stop, Elaina. It's your life. Your choice. You must choose the life you wish to live.”

  “It's not that simple.”

  “It can be,” Marcus replied, taking her hand. “Stay with me. Not here in the Palace. Come home to Listarii—you will love it there. It's quiet, surrounded by the woods and the ocean. It's beautiful.”

  “I can't—I really must go.” Elaina pulled her hand free, but she couldn't fight the tears back any longer and the first rolled down her cheek. Now that she had experienced the thrill of companionship, the thought of going back to her life of solitude stung all the more. She was torn between wanting to throw her arms around Marcus and bury her head in his shoulder and wanting to disappear entirely so that he would not see her cry.

  In her moment of fear Elaina chose the latter. Shedding her human form, she became one with the wind.

  As Elaina disappeared before his eyes, Marcus’s heart sank. “Elaina, don't go!” he cried out in futility. “I love you . . .”

  The words had slipped out before he could stop them.

  Faint as they might have been, Elaina heard his words and stopped, her incorporeal form floating over him, as the words cut through the little resolve she had managed to muster.

  Marcus stood alone in the courtyard, helpless.

  “What did you say to me?” came a voice in the wind, and Marcus whirled around. Elaina stood behind him, having resumed her womanly form, a tear running slowly down her cheek.

  “What did you say to me?” Elaina asked again.

  “I said I love you,” Marcus admitted. “From the moment I first saw you I knew.” He moved toward her.

  This time Elaina didn't flee.

  Marcus drew her in with one hand around her waist and the other caressing her cheek, and he kissed her tenderly.

  Elaina's heart fluttered as a wave rolled over her, unlike anything she had ever felt before.

  “I'm sorry to interrupt this moment, but I must borrow Marcus for a moment.” The voice belonged to Lord Alford of the Tanamere, who stood quietly watching the scene before him.

  Elaina reluctantly stepped back from the embrace, but Marcus caught her by the hand. “It's fine—stay.” Addressing Alford, he continued: “Elaina isn't one for court gossip, Alford. What is it you need?”

  “I'm afraid we'll need to leave the feast early, Marcus.”

  “Why? What's happened?”

  “I've just received word of a slave fleet working its way along the northern coast. They have already ransacked three towns, and hundreds of our people have been killed or taken against their will. With the Lord of the Sisaron here in King's Court for the Tournament, our people are in danger.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Marcus asked.

  “The Pride is waiting for me in the harbor. I will lead our navies around the western coast to head them off before they can reach the Tanamere. If they are smart they will be working their way east anyway, away from our navy. If they are foolish and moving east, Listarii lies in their path. Your people are at risk, Marcus. Take the swiftest horse you can find and make for Listarii at once. If they come ashore they will have sufficient numbers to threaten the Manor itself. Without your leadership your people are in grave danger. Make your way home at once and ready the defenses.”

  “How large a fleet are we talking about?” Marcus asked.

  “Our intelligence is sparse, as they have left few survivors in their wake. But if the fleet is large enough to sack three towns, you can expect over a dozen ships. Perhaps a thousand men, maybe more.”

  “A thousand men?” Marcus cried, incredulous. Valaar had always been afflicted by slavers from Khashish who worked their despicable trade across the entirety of the Boundless Sea. Most of the raids were driven off by the Tanamere and their considerable navy, but on occasion they were able to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting Valaaran people. The slavers had picked an opportune time to strike. With most of Valaar's ruling families in King's Court for the Tournament, much of the land had been left sparsely defended.

  “At least a thousand—hence the urgency. Do not dally, Marcus—your people's lives hang in the balance. Go—I'll rally the fleet and bring you aid as swiftly as I can muster it.”

  “Very well,” Marcus answered. Looking to Elaina he added, “Will you come with me?”

  “There is nowhere I would rather be.”

  “The battlefield is no place for a lady,” Alford interjected.

  “Your concern is admirable but unnecessary, Lord Alford,” Elaina replied. “Travel swiftly—I'm sure the winds will be with you.”

  Lord Alford's looked confused, but Marcus didn't stay to explain. Grabbing Elaina by the hand, he hurriedly made his way out of the gardens and into the Palace.

  Eight

  The journey to Listarii Manor was made in haste—at Marcus’s insistence his mother had remained in King's Court against the possibility that the Manor could fall. Amarisa had been resistant but Marcus had insisted: “If the Manor falls, one of us must remain to lead our people. You might have mastered the intrigues of the court, Mother, but the art of war was always father's domain. His education in that regard was most thorough. Leave the Manor to me, stay here in the capital and rally support and aid for our people. I will head home and lead the defense of our people.”

  “Very well,” Amarisa conceded, embracing her son. “Go and ready the horses—I would speak with Elaina before you leave.”

  Marcus wanted to linger but did as he was instructed, recognizing the authority of the matriarch of the Listarii. He obediently departed to prepare the horses.

  Once Marcus had departed the room, Amarisa bore down on Elaina, raising her finger as if scolding a wayward child. “Keep my son safe.”

  “It is not that easy, Amarisa. I have already been censured for my actions today.”

  “Do you love him?” Amarisa demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “Then it is exactly that easy. You have the power to save him from harm and you must do it. Trust me when I tell you—that warmth that swells within your heart each time you see him, the joy you feel whenever you are around him—if you lose him it will vanish and you will never be the same again. The hole it leaves in your heart will stay with you for the remainder of your life. I would give anything to have his father back.” She paused, continuing more softly: “Do not squander your life and your love—your regret and subsequent misery will last far longer than any censure. Do you understand me?”

  “I do,” Elaina replied.

  Amarisa embraced her. “Then go. May the Allfather watch over you as you watch over my son.”

  Marcus and Elaina made their way home to Listarii Manor at breakneck pace, spending the night in Belnair only to rest and refresh their steeds.

  Drawing near to the Manor, Marcus was surprised to find citizens thronging the open gates. Marcus reigned in and spotted Weapons Master Balan in the yard. Balan
served as the Drill Master for the militia and was military adviser to the Lady of the House.

  Judging by the commotion, Balan had been warned of the impending threat and was mustering the Manor's forces. A steady stream of men made their way into the armory, and as they entered they would put aside their tools and trades, to take up arms in defense of their home. Each would in turn emerge with a spear or sword, and in the other hand bore a shield with the Eastern Star of the Listarii rising over the ocean. Others in the courtyard were stringing bows and fletching arrows. Balan moved through the masses barking orders for the Manor's defense.

  Marcus dismounted and Elaina followed his lead, together they pressed their way through the crowd until he reached the Weapons Master. “Balan, it seems you have heard the news.”

  “Not heard, Marcus. I saw it with my own eyes. I was fishing on the northern shores when I saw the sails. They were riding too high in the water to be pirates or merchantmen, and in these parts that can only mean slavers. Judging by the size of the armada they have higher ambitions then a few coastal raids. I figure they are bound for us. They could hit the Manor and flee for Khashish—by the time word reached the Tanamere they would be out to open water and impossible to track.” Seeing Elaina beside Marcus Balan continued, “Who is your friend Tristan?”

  Tristan glanced at Elaina, embarrassed at the oversight on his part. “My apologies, Elaina this is Balan, Drill Master of Listarii Manor, Balan this is Elaina.”

  “A pleasure, milady,” Balan affected a short bow before continuing, “What word has reached the capital?”

  “Not a lot Balan, we know they were foolish enough to hit the Sisaron first, so word has already reached the Tanamere. Fortunately, Alford was in King's Court for the Tournament, unfortunately he has taking his fleets west, via the Tanameran coast to ensure the slavers do not strike there.”

  “One can hardly blame him for protecting his people first,” Balan mused. “But it is rotten news for us. The slavers are bearing down as we speak and help will not reach us in time.”

  “You've seen our foe, Balan—will the Manor hold?”

  “It's hard to say. Slavers seldom come equipped for a siege. While we have few full-time soldiers, our militia is considerable and our walls sound—so chances are high we can hold out until help arrives. On the other hand, I spotted over a dozen ships before I fled to raise the alarm—there is no way of knowing if there are others. If there are many more we may be overwhelmed.”

  “We must know their strength and their intentions, Balan. Where do you think they will come ashore?”

  “They were sailing along the northern coast when I saw them, but they made no signs of coming ashore. If I had to guess, I would say the Eastern Coast—the beaches make for an easier landing and it is the closest point to the Manor. They would count on a swifter assault and a quick retreat should the need arise.”

  “Well, then, that is where I am heading,” Marcus announced. “I will scout their forces. We need a better idea of their strength if we are to organize our defenses.”

  “It's madness, Marcus—if you are caught you will spend the rest of your life in the slave pits. Your mother would never allow it.”

  “Fortunately,” Marcus replied, “Mother is in King's Court, and she set me in charge of preparing our defense. I cannot do so until I know what we are facing. Stay here and organize the militia. Once our people are inside, fashion a timber work in front of the gate. An improvised ram will be their preferred method of breaching the Manor gate. If they are foolish enough to try to scale the walls they will suffer terrible casualties. They will wish to strike quickly since time is not on their side. If we can hold out for long enough, Alford will arrive by sea and we will be spared.”

  “It's a terrible risk, Marcus.”

  “—But one that must be taken all the same. There is too much at stake.”

  “Very well. God speed, m'boy. Do not dally—get their number and return swiftly. If you are seen, ride like hell.”

  “Sound counsel as always, Balan,” Marcus chuckled as he made his way back to his horse.

  “Oh, Marcus!” Balan called, “Thanks for coming back for us.” The Drill Master knew it would have been easy for the young man to remain in the capital—any number of excuses could have been manufactured to prevent him from returning home to stand with his people. His willingness to return spoke volumes about his manly character and his potential as the future Lord of the Listar family.

  Marcus didn't acknowledge the remark; instead he swung into the saddle and began nudging his horse toward the Manor gates.

  Elaina followed his lead. “Where are we headed?” she asked.

  “To the beach—we need to know what we are up against. If we stand our ground and the Manor is overwhelmed, we will all be killed or taken. If their numbers are not sufficient to take the Manor, the proper course is to hold our ground and stop them here. Balan believes their numbers are great enough to defeat the Manor. But it makes little sense to stay and die here. We can take our people and retreat inland, where the slavers cannot follow us, lest they risk being caught by Alford before they can retreat. They may have a large fleet, but many of their vessels will have their heaviest guns removed to make room for slave cells. The Tanamere will easily be their match on the water.

  “We simply need to preserve our people,” he continued. “. . . Be it by holding the Manor or by retreating so we can live to fight another day. My father taught me to weigh the costs of an engagement and consider whether it truly needs to be entered. Commanders who choose their engagement on a foundation of fear or pride are foolish. We must weigh it on its merits and act accordingly. Homes can be rebuilt, but people’s lives, once lost, are gone forever.”

  “Your father was a wise man,” Elaina answered. “You are fortunate to have had such a gifted teacher.”

  “I only wish he were still with us,” Marcus replied. “He was fearless warrior and a cunning strategist—both qualities we could sorely use today.” They cleared the crowds and passed through the gates. “We must move swiftly, Elaina—are you comfortable enough to keep up?”

  Elaina failed to suppress a laugh. “I do not need a horse to keep pace with you, Marcus. I merely ride to keep you company. Lead the way—I'll be right behind you.”

  Marcus dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and the majestic creature increased its gait. Marcus loved to ride, and under different circumstances he would have taken great pleasure in their swift journey. There was nothing quite like hurtling across the countryside with the wind rushing through his hair. There was something about sitting astride so magnificent a creature, the rider felt almost invincible as his steed's steady stride covered mile after mile.

  The pair made their way east from the Manor, working their way up the steady incline that led to the Eastern Beaches. As Marcus crested the hill and gazed out over their dunes, his heart sank.

  “Allfather, have mercy on us . . .”

  Nine

  Lying at anchor just off the coast were well over two dozen ships, but it the flotilla of launches making their way to shore caused Marcus more concern. A handful had already reached the beach, their occupants disembarking as they spread out to secure their landing.

  Marcus couldn't even count these vessels, there were so many. Alford's scouts had clearly been misled or witnessed only part of the armada now assembled against Listarii. It was one of the boldest slave raids Marcus had ever seen or heard of. There had to be over a thousand men making their way toward the beach at this very moment. One of the men on the beach spotted the two riders atop the plateau and raised the alarm.

  A party of slavers began making their way up to the plateau to prevent the riders from reporting their movements. At the same time the launches increased their pace—propelled by teams of men on the oars, the sturdy landing craft cut through the swell and sailed toward the shoreline.

  “Marcus, what are you waiting for?” Elaina cried. We need to leave!”

  “Th
ere is no leaving, Elaina, not for my people. The slavers are already ashore. We have no time to safely evacuate our people, and their numbers are greater than any of us could have imagined. Without help from the other Great Houses, Listarii Manor will be overrun. But they are already on the beach—that help will never reach us in time.

  “Well, we can't do anything here!” Elaina declared, exasperated.

  “You’re right,” Marcus answered. We will be better off behind the Manor walls. At least there we can sell our lives dearly—make these slavers pay for every life they would take and ruin.”

  Elaina's mind wandered back to the Manor and those taking refuge there. In her mind's eye she could see the elderly and infirm, the innocent children who had gathered into the Manor for protection. These lives and so many others now hung in the balance. Elaina glanced at Marcus. His countenance reflected a steely resolve to save his people. He would return to Listarii Manor to fight—she knew it. She could also see the immense host arrayed before her. To fight was certain death, she knew in her heart, yet Marcus would not be swayed from it. He had been unwilling to abandon Dariyen in the alleyway, and he would not leave his people to perish.

  Tanith's warning echoed in her ears. She knew the Five would be watching, their attention drawn by her recent conduct. There was no way that taking action here would go unnoticed. “One voted for your death, one for exile . . .” Elaina heard Tanith's voice as if he stood beside her, repeating again and again: “Consider yourself warned.”

  Elaina watched as the figures scrabbled up the sand toward them. Others continued pouring onto the beach.

  “Keep my son safe—” Amarisa's injunction came flooding back into her mind. “Do you love him?” That piercing question again. Elaina looked upon the man at her side, his resolute determination to save his people written across his countenance. If it were possible, Marcus would make it so, through sheer willpower. He was one of the most determined and resourceful men she had ever met, but—more importantly—he cared for those he served. He didn't lord over his people. Instead, he fought desperately on their behalf. “Do you love him?” the voice echoed again.