Young Warriors (Wine of the Gods Book 10)

by Pam Uphoff

  "If the tiny bit I've picked up so far in Karista is a sample, you surely are."

  "Enough witches. Tell me about your wizards." Easterly sat up and glared. "I'm supposed to be reporting to 'the Wizard Tower' tomorrow."

  "All right. You remember your history? Ancient Scoone and the Wizard Tyrants and all that?"

  "Riiiight. I think you mean mythology, not history. None of that 'King Nihility' nonsense. T'histories I've read don't even think he was real."

  "Hmm, a skeptic. All right, I'll be nice to you. Master Nil and Master Dydit are a lot older than they look. They grew up in a nasty, back-stabbing society, which has made them rather paranoid and liable to hit first and feel sorry later as they scrape up the charred scraps. Everyone else there is quite normal, as wizards go."

  "Xen . . . At least try t'look pitiful so I'm not so tempted t'strangle you."

  "And the Tower isn't much used any more, it's just the anchor for the gate to Prairie Coast."

  It was, all things considered, a very pleasant way to spend the hottest part of summer. He slept a lot, but wandered back to the Tavern often enough to rescue Dun from the well meaning fellow who thought the old boy needed to be locked in at night. He didn't even bother arguing about whether a rising yearling old stallion should be locked in a stall or not, he just took Hornet home. It was fun to play with him anyway. Saddles and bridles, and pulling a sort of sleigh around on the grassy hills. He was nearly as tall as Phantom, although not yet filled out.

  Pyrite snorted and made sarcastic comments about baby plow horses.

  And Xen had trouble staying awake, sleeping from mid-afternoon to mid-morning. And nodded off during the day. He wondered a bit uneasily about injured gods, sleeping for a year after each serious injury. I am not a god.

  Quicksilver came and went several times, with her oversized puppy now at her heels. "Honestly, I'm spending so much time there that Quinn thinks the Tavern is home. I've asked Harry for permission to build a small house somewhere in the vicinity of the Tavern, so I can study the gates."

  "Huh, you're going to live there? Permanently?"

  She wrinkled her nose. "With all the corridors, it might as well be just a little bit outside of Ash. With the corridors, I can get to either Karista or back here just as easily. For college, you know."

  He snickered. "Hey, you managed to put up with the life of a royal princess for . . . what? Almost two years?"

  "Yep. It was so dire I took extra classes. Another year and I ought to be done with an official degree, then I can get back to exploring these dimensional phenomena."

  He got pulled into the wizard's school and involved with the new trainees on top of his own advanced work. Most 'natural' wizards were hard put to consciously use the abilities they'd used mostly subconsciously all their lives. Easterly was better than most, and Nil commented that either someone had suppressed his hormones or he'd set a record for late puberty. Several of them, including Easterly, had allowed Nil to lock up their hormones for a year, to see if it affected their magical ability at all. As Easterly was twenty-seven, Xen was skeptical of its utility, but considered it well worth a try. He managed to stay awake late enough one evening to have dinner with Deena at the Twin Inn. He contemplated letting his libido out again . . . caught a narrowing of her eyes and cancelled the idea. Another year or two, just in case he had a bit of brain growth left . . .

  She rolled her eyes. "I'm getting an education all right. It didn't occur to me that women in a position of power would act just as . . . randy as men, nor that they would still gossip and chatter endlessly. I see why you left. And I know all about 'birding' now. Swish and family had a screaming fight about it all. I suspect Nighthawk will be back in the Tavern sooner than you'll be."

  He winced. Turned his head slightly to eye Kipp Hasty and Obsidian. They were smiling at each other over the remains of dinner. Little Rufi was dangling a spaghetti noodle for his baby brother to grab. Both of them looked to be well coated with sauce. And happy.

  He sighed and looked back at Deena. "I sort of hoped the time away would have helped her relationship with her mother."

  "I don't think there was ever much chance of that. She's better off with her dad." Deena kicked him—lightly—under the table. "My poor dad is going to have to come to terms with me being a witch. I've been taught how to meditate, and I've been given a list of charms to memorize before I come back for some serious training. I'm all packed. I'm leaving after the midnight session at the hotsprings."

  Kipp fled wizard school for the Tavern shortly thereafter, and Little Rufi came with him—clinging to the familiar face from his earliest years. Nighthawk ran away—again—two days later.

  Xen packed up as soon as he heard that and headed for the Tavern. His two children. Probably as close as he'd ever come to a normal family. Perhaps, like his father, he'd have to wait a thousand years to find true love. What he had would do for now.

  About the Author

  I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.

  Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re just celebrated our thirty-third anniversary.

  My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I "retired" to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and worked as the treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush, unsolicited manuscripts, for Baen Books (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)

  I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.

  Other Titles by Pam Uphoff

  Wine of the Gods Series:

  Outcasts and Gods

  Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)

  The Black Goats

  Explorers

  Spy Wars

  Comet Fall

  A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)

  Dark Lady

  Growing Up Magic (Three Novellas)

  Writing as Zoey Ivers

  YA Cyberpunk Adventures:

  The Barton Street Gym

  Chicago (Spring 2013)

  Fantasy:

  Demi God

  Excerpt from an Upcoming Release

  The God of Assassins

  Chapter One

  Mid Winter 1393

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  Captain Prince Staven Negue drug his mind back from the tick of hard snow against the windows, and shook his head at his Uncle Fossi's latest plan to corral the Crown Prince's heir.

  My baby brother.

  I remember how happy Father was, the day he was born.

  Now he just looks tired. So does everyone else. Grandfather—King Leeno—and Uncle Rufi—who is his Spear. The other nations laugh at our two headed arrangement, but Leeno and Rufi support each other and act as a check on each other's power. As Fossi with the Army will both support and limit Rolo when he takes the throne. And here I am. Rebo's spear prince. Old Gods help me!

  He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.

  "I guess I'm going to have to be the one to say it. Rebo is not, and in my opinion, never will be, fit to rule the kingdom. I move we summon the Head of the Council and request that he be formally removed from the succession."

  "But . . . " Crown Prince Rolo, his father and Rebo's, looked away, a sheen of tears in his eyes.

  The king shut his eyes; a vertical line of pain creased his forehead.

  Fossi met Staven's eyes. "That means removing you as well."

  "And I don't have any more sons." Rolo scowled at him, anger in his voice. "You can't do this to yourself!"

  The king lifted a hand. "Staven can be reinstated. Garit is a year and a half younger, if he was named your crown heir, Staven would be the obvious choice for his Spear."

&nb
sp; Rolo was shaking his head. "We can't pass over Mirk . . . who, frankly would be a much better administrator than Garit. He already is."

  "Mirk is thirty-nine. We'd have to find some distant cousin older than him who is in the army, to be his military leader." The king exchanged glances with Rufi.

  Rufi shrugged. "Benni's got three or four grandsons who'd qualify. Kersh's sons . . . are a bit old." He shrugged ruefully. "All right, so they are younger than I am. Neither of them are in the army. Pity Fidel's younger boy is so young, he's a fire eater."

  Fossi grinned suddenly. "How about Franki?"

  "Too young, thank the gods." The old king couldn't suppress a smile, but it was brief. "Well. The only thing I'm not hearing is support for Rebo." He looked around the table, nodded. "Let's make it formal. All in favor of requesting the Council to remove Rebo from the succession?"

  Five raised hands. Even father knows it has to be done.

  "Very well. I will ask the Head of the Council to attend on me and break the news. It will have to be done in public."

  ***

  Staven looked at the note and cussed. "Oh damn it, Rebo. Couldn't you behave for just another week?" He glanced over at the page, bouncing on his heels. No doubt word Staven's exasperation with his brother would be all over the palace within the hour. "Fetch my horse, side door." The boy ran off and Staven headed for his wardrobe. He crumpled the note and tossed it in the general direction of his trash can. "Join me for dinner and entertainment? Old Gods know what he considers entertainment." He shut his mouth. Military officers were not supposed to walk around muttering. Definitely civilian clothes for someplace out in the New Lands.

  Staven spotted his little brother, apparently waiting for him at the main entrance to the . . . Edge of the World. He swung down and handed his reins to the stable boy and stalked over to the insufferable brat.

  "Huh. Thought I'd get the Bastard, but you'll do." Rebo turned and walked through the open doors.

  Lord Keith was waiting inside, and someone or ones were disappearing through a door across the lobby.

  Staven was glad to see that the place was tastefully furnished, tapestries on the walls, and an appetizing odor coming from the kitchens. He relaxed a bit. "Someone has good tastes."

  Lord Keith sniffed. "Like I told Rebo, these women can cook, and they know how a man likes to be entertained, too."

  Stave gave Keith a dubious look. Not the worst of Rebo's pals. Unfortunately, Rebo hasn't got any "best." No guards in sight, of course. I ought to have notified someone.

  Rebo sneered. "You're what? Twenty-three years of age and already a confirmed old stick. You're going to be just like our mutual half-great-uncle. Who is seventy-three years old and never married. Huh. Maybe he likes boys."

  Staven ground his teeth. So much for the nice décor. I'm being set up for something. Hopefully just being left holding the bill. Rebo's allowance is minimal, as Father tries to make him pay for past indiscretions. He's been supporting eight bastard children since a bit before his fifteenth birthday. And complaining bitterly about it every month.

  Rebo was about to get another shock.

  Staven eyed him. Best I let him enjoy tonight. Maybe even tomorrow. Because as soon as we get back to Karista . . . Well. Grandfather has to talk to the Head of the Council. Officially. From the Throne, in full public view. Everyone will know, by the day after tomorrow, that the king will be disinheriting him. "Well, let's see what sort of entertainment you're going to inflict on me."

  Rebo turned and headed for the doorway arch to the left, where a devastatingly beautiful woman waited. Smiling her welcome, she led them into the dining room, and seated them in a private nook with a good view of the stage.

  The whole back wall of the room was windowed, looking out over a drop to badlands that vanished into mists. It did, in fact, look very much like the edge of the world. Staven told himself it was just fog from hotsprings down below. Certainly he'd seen the Rip a few times in his nine years in the Army. The geologists at the college claimed the Rip was a "mid-continent spreading ridge." His Uncle Day had nodded as if it weren't news to him, and Staven trusted his knowledge, however unlikely it sounded.

  Quiet flute music danced around in the background as beautiful women came and went with wine, bread and cheese, a delicate fish dish, an ice, something the waitress swore was a giant lizard that lived here abouts, and fresh vegetables, steamed with a delicate sauce, and then medallions of wild bison.

  As the dishes came and went, dancers on the stage did likewise. Tasteful, yet very, very erotic. As the sun set, the foggy landscape behind them yellowed, reddened, darkened.

  The red wine that came with the bison was incredible. He reeled back in his seat and grabbed the arms . . . but couldn't decide if he was keeping himself from falling out of the chair or from throwing himself at the incredible dancer who was floating their way.

  Rebo snickered. "You get used to it."

  He and Keith swapped grins. "Gotta find the privy, be right back."

  "Yeah, me too." Keith was close on his heels.

  The lights dimmed, and a feminine form slunk up to him.

  He vaguely heard Rebo as the two walked off. "C'mon, let's see if there's any action in the hot springs."

  The dancer ran fingers up his arm, and he hoped Rebo wasn't planning on coming back too soon.

  ***

  The dining alcove had curtains. Cushions.

  The dancer knew just what to do to please him. She was incredible.

  And finally they walked out to cool off a bit. Staven felt dreamy, could barely feel the ground under his heels. Even sounds were muffled. Red Devil neighing, thumps that might be him, or some other horse kicking the stall walls . . . "Devil doesn't kick . . . " Staven lifted his tired head and looked vaguely toward a barn . . . but the dancer leaned against him and urged him onward. Even with no moon, the path was clear in the brilliant starlight.

  "The view is so romantic, look up, at all the stars."

  Staven blinked at the edge of the cliff. Not really an abrupt drop, more a steep giants' staircase. Human sized steps off to the left. He looked up. The sky was clear of the foggy mists, filled with stars, the milky way stretched overhead.

  And he was falling.

  She pushed me!

  All vagueness fled as he hit the first ledge down, rolled, was rolled over the next. He hit. Was ready this time for the light footfalls and grabbed for the woman, but she laughed and dodged. He was so slow . . . couldn't seem to stand . . .

  Drugged.

  She kicked and he slid off the next ledge.

  He threw a hand out to break his fall. A shooting pain. And she was there again.

  She's pretty fast on those stairs.

  She kicked him and he scrambled to grab the lip . . . went feet first this time. Hit and rolled like he'd been taught to fall off a horse. He staggered, turned to face the woman as she floated down steps to the left.

  "Hey! What are you doing!" An alarmed male voice, echoing up out of the steamy mist.

  "Rebo?" Staven spun, was hit broadside and stumbled forward over the next drop. Crashed, rolled.

  Saw two men standing a few feet away. Even in the dark the shape, the stance . . . the other man pushed Rebo and he dropped from sight. Yelling. Splashing. Anger turning abruptly to fear and pain. Screaming.

  Staven staggered to his feet, rushed the man, skidded to a halt at the edge as the dark figure dodged. Ten feet down, in a confused dark mist, Rebo screamed, splashing, some huge something heaved up, briefly clear. The armored head and long toothy mouth shown clear. The jaws opened.

  Staven was reaching for his knife when he was shoved from the rear. He landed on the giant lizard, rolled off into shallow water, scrambled away, drawing his belt knife. The short blade was more of a tool than a weapon. One foot sank deep and he reversed course.

  Get out of the water!

  "Rebo! Rebo?"

  s (Wine of the Gods Book 10)