The Warrior Returns: Far Kingdoms #4 (The Far Kingdoms)

by Allan Cole

  Then I saw the statue move. First a hand coming up, then a booted foot coming forward. There was a shimmer and the idol glowed into full life.

  The goddess gestured.

  A sparkling shower rained on her shoulders and her warrior’s garb and weapons vanished to be replaced by silken robes of translucent purple that swirled about her ivory flesh, clinging to her body’s curves and hollows. The robe was cut high on the left and when she moved the smooth white limb on that side was tantalizing revealed from delicate ankle to rounded hip.

  I was stunned by the beauty of the goddess. I must’ve gaped like a poor fishy thing from the deep.

  Maranonia laughed at the sight of me and the air was filled with the scent of her violet breath.

  I was frightened and bowed low, my heart vying with my head to knock against the floor.

  In those days, when visits by godly beings were rare, I was a proper little supplicant, bowing and scraping and being all a marvel. In future times, as you shall see, my awe was replaced with less respectful feelings. And deservedly so.

  But, at that moment, I was in such awe that I hate myself when I remember it.

  The goddess said: “You ask a boon, Rali?”.

  “Yes, if you please, My Lady,” I quavered.

  “What makes you think I can grant it?” the goddess asked.

  I’m certain I made a comical sight puzzling up at her like a small child who’s just been told her parents were not the ultimate source of power and wisdom. It had never occurred to me that she couldn’t do whatever she wished. She was a goddess, wasn’t she? I thought the only question would be - Will she? Not - Can she?

  The goddess chuckled at my discomfort and for the first time I thought of the comparison between her laughter and the horrible bells sounding the alarm for war.

  Her laugh irritated me. My knees hurt and my temper was starting to get the best of me.

  “So happy to be such a great source of amusement to you, My Lady,” I grumbled, quite frosty for a person who was a humble supplicant only moments before.

  This only made her laugh harder. I gritted my teeth until the storm of godly humor faded.

  Then she said, “You’ll have to watch that temper of your, Rali. It might cause us both some trouble in the future.”

  Although she was smiling, her eyes were so steely I was once again reduced to a properly trembling state.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” I said.

  The goddess crooked a finger and the room swirled before my eyes and all became darkness except for her glowing form.

  She spoke and her voice seemed to come from within me.

  “I can only tell you this, Rali Emilie Antero,” she said. “You must make this voyage. It is vital to the future of Orissa - the people I have chosen to support. I cannot openly side with you, although I will do what I can. There are those who have influence among my heavenly cousins who do not favor the Anteros.

  “And I must warn you most severely not to reveal a word about my appearance this day, or what I have said. Your brother, especially, must not be told. His strength must be saved for another time - if and when the final fight comes.

  “So it is up to you, Rali, to see your people through this crisis.”

  Her image started to fade.

  “Is that all you can tell me, Goddess?” I cried. “Please. Reveal all you can safely say. I will tell no one.”

  The goddess’ image firmed.

  “Your journey will be fraught with difficulty,” she said. “Some may die. Some may flee. Whether you are successful or not depends on you, Rali. Not the gods.

  “And I will tell you one thing more...

  “Three ships will mark your fortunes. Three ships will carry your fate.

  “Three ships a sailing... One of silver, one of copper and one of gold.”

  Her image vanished and I collapsed unconscious to the floor.

  I’d fully recovered by the time the tides called us to depart. When Amalric came to see me off I was able to display nothing but good cheer. I’d even begun to wonder if the vision had been the result of the sour wine I’d stopped to drink at a tavern near the settlement.

  When I thought on it the whole thing seemed so unlikely, so far fetched.

  Amalric embraced me. “May the trade winds always be at your back, sister dear,” he said.

  I kissed him, then drew away to study him closer.

  In that moment he looked like the solemn little boy I’d once known and left behind when I’d gone marching off to war.

  So I asked him then what I’d begged from him more than once in those long ago days.

  “Smile for me, little brother,” I said. “One smile to carry in my heart while I’m gone.”

  And Amalric blessed me with his brightest sweetest smile.

  I looked at his face, memorizing it. I think he did the same with me.

  In his eyes I saw a question begin to grow.

  And that question was - would we ever see one another again?

  Ah, by the gods, if I’d known the answer I’d have kissed him once more.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE ORACLE OF PISIDIA

  Before my time and my brother’s time our world was a small dark place surrounded by fearful things. We were like barn mice, poking our heads out of our burrows when hunger drove us to it, daring the mighty owl in the rafters as we scampered to feed on animal droppings.

  Amalric’s voyages of discovery opened the East as far as the distant peaks of Tyrenia that overlook the barren lands where the demons and the Old Ones had battled for eons. My expedition against the last Archon of Lycanth unveiled the mysterious West - thousands of leagues beyond the fiery reefs that’d once marked the end of the known world.

  We’d always traded with the people in the hot regions of the North and were vaguely familiar with their culture and habits. Although few Orissans had personally visited the north, there were detailed maps showing that savage area with reasonable accuracy.

  My father, Paphos Anteros, had explored the ice lands of the South in his youth but he’d been too overwhelmed by the work of expanding our family fortune to exploit his few discoveries.

  He was an old-school gentleman with courtly manners and a kind and gentle air that masked his shrewd judgment. He was never one to spare his praise, especially for me. I’d perform some small task for him, such as fetching his favorite bowl - cracked and stained with age - so he could pour a little honeyed-wine in it and dip his bread for a late night snack. When I’d set the bowl down carefully on his study table he’d hug me and thank me as if I’d crossed mountains and wild seas to do him this favor.

  “Thank you, daughter,” he’d say. “And to those thanks add ten thousand more.”

  You see what I mean? Not one thank you would suffice. There must be ten thousand, plus the one.

  Although my mother had the greater influence on me - and it was through her I inherited my magical ability - my father stirred my more noble feelings, forming and cementing my notions of right and wrong and honor. It was also through him that I’d been infected by the Antero family obsession to explore new lands and see new things. And when my mother carried my wishes forward, telling him that above all things I wanted to become a soldier, my father’d made certain I had the chance to achieve my heart’s desire.

  I was always his darling daughter no matter how rough or boyish my play. When I was a child I’d sit on his knee night after late night, winding and unwinding my fingers in his beard while he regaled me with tales of his early adventures in the lands of the South.

  He told me of the oyster beds along the Straights Of Madacar where the pearls were plump and glowing. He showed me one rare pearl he’d found that was as big as my childish fist and black as the deeps of the deepest sea. He had a little fertility idol, a fat little woman with great breasts and an oversized pudendum that he prized above all his treasures. He said it came through many hands from the true end of the world and was a goddess to the People Of The Edge who
lived on the bottom of the earth. It had been his lifelong desire to go to that place but he’d never had the time to undertake such a journey.

  I’ve been there since those days of pigtails and scraped knees. I’ve seen what my father ached to see. I remember gazing out on those wild and lovely wastelands for the first time and thinking if things had been different Paphos Antero would’ve been the first great Orissan explorer instead of Amalric. Who knows what the world would be like if that’d happened?

  And how much larger it would be.

  I suppose it was because of his dreams and tales that I’d concentrated on southern exploration and trade since I left the Maranon Guard and joined my brother. Perhaps the threat I sensed from the false Ice Bear King made me more anxious to secure those regions for Orissan trade.

  As I viewed the matter any losses suffered to that pirate devil would be as much a blow against my father as myself.

  When I set out to investigate the extent of the danger, if danger existed at all, I did so with more resolve than someone seeking mere profit.

  I’d be damned if I’d let some barbarian upstart interfere with my family’s plans. And if he’d harmed any of my people I’d hunt him down and rid the earth of his flea-riddled carcass.

  I was a warrior in wizard’s robes and by the sweet eyes of Maranonia I swore to have my will in this matter.

  We made a fast run south. We flew no flags. Used sails dyed a dawny blue so as not to stand out on the horizon. And we avoided even the most innocent traffic.

  My ship was the Tern, a single-masted, shallow-drafted vessel built for speed in any waters - from stormy seas to placid river currents.

  I carried a crew of ten, which was more than I needed to sail her, but all were skilled fighters as well so we’d make a nasty little force to be crossed.

  There was a short single bank of oars on either side to get out us out of trouble if we were becalmed. And I’d fitted her out with all the most modern devices, such as the small magical pump just out of our Evocator’s shops that’d keep her dry and light in any weather.

  The pump ran on a mild spell of perpetuation so it never needed manning, other than someone to clear the hose if oakum or some other debris clogged it. The pump was only one of many useful devices Orissans had devised in recent years, combining the magical knowledge my brother brought back from the Far Kingdoms with our native ingenuity for mechanics.

  The captain was Carale, whom I was delighted to sail with again. The first mate was Donarius, a big blustery fellow with a bad temper and keen weather eye. He also swung a two-handed sword with impressive and ferocious ease and although he grumbled some he always followed orders exactly.

  One of the practices I’d instituted since joining my brother was building a stable of men and women trained both as sailors and warriors. In my expedition against the Archon I’d seen the need for such a thing. Most sailors must engage in combat from time to time. But their seamanship is valued over their fighting ability. Anyone who has been in even the mildest storm at sea would never quarrel with the wisdom of this practice.

  It seemed to me both things could be achieved and at a high level of skill if the scale was kept small. It turned out to be the perfect solution for a commercial enterprise such as ours. My brother had always maintained a crack security force composed of former soldiers and members of elite units. With Amalric’s approval I’d launched the plan and combed near and far for the best people.

  I’d promised hard training, high wages and a clean life that might very well be short. To that end I’d established a handsome fund for those who were maimed or became too old, or died and left family behind. I’d been deluged with volunteers so I had my pick. To my delight many were women, although I had to be especially careful not to impede the rebuilding of the Maranon Guard, which had been decimated in the war against Lycanth.

  All the volunteers were trained as sailors by my brother’s most worthy captains and as soldiers by myself. Later I became so busy I’d been forced to turn this duty over to a retired Guardswoman, a steely-muscled sergeant with a game leg and educated nose for laggards. Some got even more specialized training, such as handling caravan animals and desert fighting.

  When I left on the mission most of these men and women were engaged in other Antero affairs. In short, my options were limited. Even so, I was well satisfied with the men who volunteered and my only regret was there were no women available.

  Among my men was a set of twins, Talu and Talay. They were handsome lads, with long shocks of blond hair and incredible torsos. But it was if they were bronze statues cast by the same factory, so identical in looks, manner and speech it was useless to attempt to tell them apart.

  And so we called them both Talutalay. Or Talut for short. They’d trained for an elite Guards force but in the army’s age-old small-minded manner, they were refused permission to serve together. They left when their first term ended and I’d snapped them up before they’d reached the first tavern to drink away their woes and spoil their morale forever.

  Another member of the crew worth mentioning was the cook. He was exceedingly tall and remained thin as a spar no matter how much or richly he ate or drank. He had a long neck, a small head and was bald of pate and chin. He had a nervous habit of licking his lips, a quick dart-like motion of his tongue. He was a cheery sort, an extraordinary cook, and he could hurl a spear an amazing distance, using his long lean body like a throwing stick. He was the son of a fishing family who’d caught the adventure bug.

  I forget his name but that’s because we all called him Lizard, which is how he introduced himself and was certainly the animal he most resembled. If you can imagine, that is, a lizard as friendly as an innkeep’s pup.

  I hadn’t told the men the specifics of our mission before we left, saying only that it was dangerous. Although I’d admitted the pay was triple and the bonuses among the most handsome ever, I’d downplayed that part and emphasized the danger.

  I didn’t want need or greed to color anyone’s decision.

  Just before we reached the Pillars Of Te Date I called them all together to explain what’d happened and what our purpose was.

  Carale, the only one who’d been with me on the last expedition, breathed a sigh when I was done.

  “I figgered that’s what was up, Me Lady,” he said. His normally dour expression had actually brightened, if you call a storm reduced to mere heavy showers a brightening. “Those poor blighters at the outposts’ll be right glad t’ see us.

  “I know I’d be.”

  The others nodded in vigorous agreement. A side benefit of the mission, both Amalric and I agreed, would be to show our employees the Anteros were behind them no matter how far away from home our business took them.

  “I want to stress,” I said, “that we must be careful what we say whenever we go ashore. I don’t want this bear king fellow, or whoever he is, to get his wind up.”

  “Why, he’s nothin’ but pig dung, Lady Antero,” Donarius said. “Won’t take us long to nail his hide to a shed. I ‘spect we’ll be home in time t’ tap th’ first barrel of spring.” He smacked his lips. “I likes me brew a bit green, Lady Antero.”

  “Like your women, ‘eh Donarius?” I joked. It was well-known that the big first mate went weak-kneed at the sight of any tavern slut who could still lay semi-honest claim to a girlish giggle.

  Everyone laughed appreciatively. Perhaps a little louder than the mild humor warranted. I wanted them to become used to my ways. It was easier when I was soldier in uniform, only wearing my captain’s badge.

  Most men would soon forget my sex and accept me as a warrior who was easily their equal on the battlefield or in the tavern yard.

  But nowadays I was an Evocator, addressed as Lady Antero this and My Lady that, until I feared they’d snatch themselves bald from so much forelock tugging.

  The laughter sparked a few more jokes at the First Mate’s expense. He blushed like an overlarge boy and I raised a hand to bring it to a hal
t when I thought his good humor might soon dissolve into resentment, and then anger.

  I returned to the subject of the false Ice Bear King.

  “I don’t know if this pirate is just a thief with an imagination,” I said, “or if he’s a real menace. For all I know he could be nothing more than a lucky rogue who was shrewd enough to trap that demon into working for him. And when I killed the demon I wiped out what little magical armament he had.”

  “I fear worse’n that, Me Lady,” Carale said, his expression sour. “It’s a well-known fact that where ye’ll find one demon ye’ll find another.”

  This was untrue. I’d encountered single demons before - such as Lord Elam, who’d nearly made a feast of me and my companions. But it was senseless to argue with tavern myths and I let it go. Besides, I preferred Carale’s wariness to his first mate’s overconfidence.