All eyes swiveled to the crown that glittered in his hand, pearls and Alexandrites winking in the brilliant light of late afternoon. He slowly lowered it, looking in each face. “This is not a game to us. We endeavor to escape something that is beyond our control and the Princess has gone from one untenable and dangerous circumstance into one which appears worse,” he said, throwing a hand disdainfully toward Clara's blouse.
Clara closed the loose cloth with one hand and turned to Charles. In a low, ringing voice she said, “That is enough Charles. They do not mean harm. They have done their best, hacking out an existence in the belly of their enemies. I was simply caught in the center of it.”
She searched his face and he looked back at her. “We must go, Clara. Somewhere that is safe for all, away from this,” Charles said, opening his arms wide.
“I do not think that is wise,” Clarence said, looking at the loose group that was the Band, tense as a cat in a room full of rockers is what he didn't add. Clarence sensed that any movement in the wrong direction would disrupt the harmony he sensed hanging from the thinnest of threads.
Evelyn walked slowly to Clara, slipping a hand in hers. Clara smiled at the young girl, almost the same height as she. She squeezed her hand with encouragement, thinking that there were some things that were precious. That the sphere was only one thing of many, that there were things bigger than she at work here and her sphere.
She looked back at the Band who were glaring at Charles and said, “Their President...”
“Whose,” Charles and Clarence said at the same time.
“Their leader, President Bowen...”
“They have no King?” Clarence asked.
“Quiet, run-the-mouth, let her finish!” Charles said, making Clarence huff and begin pacing again.
Clara smiled. “My taking was a planned event.”
The men looked at her, mouths agape. “They were not simply passerby, taking the opportunity that presented itself?” Charles asked, looking at the Band from a different perspective, yet again.
Clara shook her head.
Bracus said, “The Princess was a longterm choice. We wished, we hoped, she would be a liaison of sorts between our peoples. We needed to make peaceable contact and begin a negotiation. She seemed a good choice.” he rolled his massive shoulders into a shrug.
Clarence said, “Peaceable, really? Is this peaceable.”
James laughed. “Perchance he makes sense, Captain.”
Matthew grunted, “The best laid plans...”
“Run amuck...” Jacob finished.
To which Philip bellowed from his perch on the ground, “be a good nursemaid and fetch me another pull of water!”
Jacob raised his eyebrows. “Duty beckons,” and maneuvering around the corpses went to Philip in short order. Where words such as “nag,” and “simpleton” could be heard. Clara was sure had Philip been well and standing, there would have been a great deal more interchange of the physical variety.
“Let us take care of the dead,” Bracus said. “Afterward we will make a camp and speak more on this.
Charles' temper seemed to have cooled sufficiently enough to lend a hand. Clara and Evelyn walked to the area that began to transition into forest. She found a mossy area where they could sit and visit together. It was most obvious that Evelyn was desperate for some feminine contact and certainly Clara was. They sat down and began to chat in earnest.
Clarence and Charles helped the rest of the Band, all but Philip and Jacob, haul each member of the fragment as far away from the border of the forest from whence they needed to return to their clan (Charles knew the exact location, having followed two from there).
That got him thinking. “Where are the two Band that I saw leave the clan?” Clarence said, depositing a body on top of another. It had deep, slashing gouges, which allowed intestines to protrude like glistening worms laying open and shining in the glaring light of the day.
He used the back of his forearm to wipe sweat off his brow, mindful not to touch himself with hands that handled death.
James looked across the body at the pair. “Who?”
“Two males, like you,” and Charles pointed at his height, the gills on his throat.
A puzzled expression came over his face. “Captain!” he called, never looking away from Charles.
Bracus strode over. “What say you?”
“He said...” his eyebrows raised.
“Charles,” Clarence said.
“Charles said...” he nodded, continuing, “that two of the Band left our stronghold some hours past.”
Bracus' eyebrows met as one. That meant there was trouble and the clan was unprotected. He said as much and the other man, Clarence, spoke, intuiting his expression.
“They were speaking with a short, stout man, who said there were other Band'?” he said as a question.
Which got Bracus nodding. “It did not sound as if they were alarmed.”
“Stephen and Joseph?” James asked.
Bracus nodded. Why would they feel compelled to leave the clan in the first place? They disobeyed a direct order of protection? It did not make sense. Again Bracus wondered why Matthew and Clara had come to be here. He would get to the bottom of this puzzle just as soon as they were done with the grisly clean up. The wildlife would smell the perfume of death and come this night, scavenging all. He wished to be far from this place before that occurred.
Bracus glanced to where Evelyn and Clara huddled together and thought of the reaction he had with her. He knew that somehow, rare as it was, she was a select. That greatly complicated things. His eyes sought and found Matthew, throwing another body on a second pile of fragment. Mayhap he had been overcome in some way.
“Captain?” Jacob broke into his thoughts. Then he heard it, horses.
What now? So deep in thought he had all but missed the upcoming threat.
He whipped his head around and saw with satisfaction that Matthew was sprinting toward the females and had reached them.
Charles wondered what all the fuss was about, alarmed when he saw the huge male that appeared constantly angry race toward Clara and the girl with golden hair. Not to harm. But Charles squinted and there it was, movement through the forest.
He saw it first and heard Clarence exclaim, “Dammit all to Hades.”
Yes, that was about perfect, he thought.
As the deep purple of the royal flag of the Kingdom of Ohio came into view, Charles heart sunk in his chest. The Queen was here, she had followed them Outside.
Bracus stayed where he was, scanning his men, their eyes sharp and ready. They looked at him for direction and he made an elaborate circle with his finger. Philip rose unsteadily to his feet. Hand at his side, he covered his dressings as he walked slowly to where Bracus stood.
“Brother, who comes?”
Bracus shook his head, but Clarence responded, “Our Queen.”
Philip and Bracus looked curiously at him for his tone was not one of reverence, but one of weary resignation.
Charles said, “She will wish Clara's return.”
“Of course. And she shall but not without a space of time to negotiate. This is fortuitous that your Queen is here. We can begin peaceable negotiations now and Clara can assist in this,” Bracus said.
Clarence barked out a laugh and Bracus frowned.
“Why do you laugh? What is funny here, sphere-dweller?” Philip said with gravel in his voice, thinking he made a joke at their expense.
“He does not think there will be negotiations with Queen Ada,” Charles said.
“Why?” Bracus asked.
“Queen Ada negotiates with no one,” Clarence said.
Bracus looked at the entourage break into the meadow. An elegantly made copper staff with a deep violet flag flew stoutly from its top, held by a male of stature, the outline of the sphere etched into the rich material of the flag. His excellent vision could just make out the symbol of one of their strange sea creatures in the center. His frown
deepened.
“Is she contrary in nature? Is that what you imply? Speak quickly, as I must know how to proceed,” Bracus commanded.
“She is our monarch. That is all the explanation that we may give you,” Charles responded.
“Worry not, you will know much inside the first five minutes spent in her company,” Clarence said, spitting out the last word like spoiled fruit upon his tongue.
Philip and Bracus became uneasy. He did not sense the easy loyalty that they shared with President Bowen. It was confounding. He had found Clara to be pleasant and of amicable disposition after she became aware of things, their purpose.
The Band spread out in the meadow and Matthew returned to the group with Clara and Evelyn, while the royal and her guard stood on the forest's edge.
They formed a loose circle together and watched as the Queen moved toward them. The Band unsheathing their daggers as one, the smooth sound of metal releasing its casing a single musical song note in the now-silent meadow.
*
Henry saw the group of fierce warriors, numbering five, standing about Princess Clara. Two of the sphere's subjects he had known their entire lives. The troublemaker, now one of his guard, although only a tunnel sentry, Clarence and Charles, companion to the Princess. This was going bad quickly, he thought for the hundredth time. His eyes sharpened as he noticed the daggers which came from their sheathing to stand naked in the hands of these savages. The way they held them spoke of easy grace and much use. Henry swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, forging ahead.
The Queen spied Clara standing like the coward she was in the midst of the strange savages. Ada took them in, drunk them in. Now these were men, real men, her mouth watering slightly. And there her daughter stood. Ada narrowed her eyes on Clara, taking in the disheveled hair and her gaze fixed on the torn bodice and blood which covered her upper body. What had happened here? What had the stupid girl gotten herself wrapped up in? No matter, the queen thought, she would return with the wretched girl and after being cleaned and scoured, they would determine if she had been defiled. Hmm, the Queen pondered, she had better be pure. She wanted nothing to impact the treaty.
All of this went through the Queen's drunken fog in seconds as they neared the group and the horse stopped. She rose unsteadily from her cocoon as if she was in her royal throne room. Purposeful, determined, vital. She would have everything she wished, savages or no.
She was Queen Ada, reigning monarch of the Kingdom of Ohio, she rehearsed, straightening to her full height.
Henry hurried over to assist their Queen but she shot him a withering look of such magnitude he halted in his tracks.
Bracus looked at the strange contraption. A half-egg assembly filled with voluminous pillows and a lantern of some kind which hissed with steam, the soft light catching the colors of the cushions within, metallic copper thread a light of its own.
Her First Guard hovered around her elbow, a hammered body armor of some lightweight metal was strung together with leather that ran the length of his torso, armpit to waist. Bracus immediately searched for entry spots. He had never fought in a war in which his enemy wore armor. It was disquieting. He could sense the Band searching as he was.
Clara stood alone. She looked to her side. She was not quite alone; Evelyn needed her, squeezing her hand again. Clara refocused on the Queen, rising from her moving throne she stood facing the group as Henry, First Royal Guard, stood loyally at her side. Clara felt sick, she wished to never see Ada again as the Queen gazed upon Clara with such lack of compassion and concern. Clara admitted, if only to herself, it was crushing to her spirit.
“Clara,” Queen Ada began, ignoring the Band as if they weren't there.
Clara curtsied. “Yes, my Queen.”
“You look terrible. Are you without pride?” she asked, her laser stare piercing marrow and bone.
Clara swallowed her despair in a bitter pill. No question as to the blood and marks of battle.
“I... I was a part of a....” she began.
Matthew was suddenly there behind her and Clara struggled not to show open relief. Only years of training to blank her expression enabled Clara to obscure her emotions.
Ada flicked her eyes to the huge male which came to stand behind Clara. Most curious, the Queen thought. He lingered about the girl, as if branding her. His whole being seemed poised to take on whoever dare go near her. Ada paused. She did not like this male, he was entirely too concerned over Clara. That would not do. Then her eyes took in Charles, to the left of Clara. She scowled. That dreadful young man was like a weed which came up in the same spot in the hot house of roses. He would need to be dealt with as well, a thorn in her side. And Clarence, her scowl deepening. He had obviously been behind the escape from the beginning. Traitor. So be it. Queen Ada liked to solve problems, it came to her so easily; discipline to all. Why King Raymond never saw the logic of that precept was beyond her. He was soft. She had always known that of him.
“Who are you?” Matthew asked, looking at the flag which bore the symbol of the sphere, framing the Queen perfectly.
Queen Ada let her eyes begin at his leather-clad feet, shod in shoes which laced up calves that swelled deliciously to powerfully constructed knees and joined thighs built like heavily-muscled timber, the like of which they had just traveled through. She was not accustomed to such flesh exposed on a male. Shocking indeed, but she found she liked it, she liked it very much. She took in his trim waist which broadened across a chest in a leather tunic which hung shoulder to mid-thigh, his hair swinging free in loose waves which moved in the wind. But it was his eyes which captured hers. Utterly wild, he was an untamed thing. And as she stared he placed a palm around Clara's neck, meant to steady, the hand encircling the girl's throat easily. And a look of relaxation slid into her eyes, as if she felt protected by the brute. This was not good, not good at all.
She liked Clara in a state of unbalance., teetering.
“My Queen?” Henry asked. And Ada was snapped out of her reverie.
Matthew stared at her and she answered, “I am Queen Ada, sovereign ruler of the Kingdom of Ohio,” she responded in her imperious manner.
Then she told Henry, without looking at him, “Bring my traveling goblet, guard.”
“Yes, my Queen.” Henry walked to the travel bag which hung in a jeweled case of brass, welded onto the side of her traveling cocoon. He brought out the cup, fashioned by a blacksmith from her home sphere in the finest metal, titanium-lightweight and travel ready.
Matthew looked at the female and could not see a mustard seed of kinship between the two women. Clara had said they were mother and daughter but he could not see it. This woman was as tall as some men. Raven-colored hair and a ferret's face, feral and sharp and too thin by far. Did they not have adequate food in their kingdom? He felt Clara tremble slightly and his hand squeezed around her fragile neck. He alone knew that the Queen meant her physical harm. The other Band did not. That friend of hers, Charles, would know of her mistreatment, certainly he must. He wished opportunity to confer with them as this detail mattered. But, of course, as was typical... danger of circumstance preceded useful knowledge.
The Queen swaggered forward, coming to stand before Clara. Looking down on her she took in the disarray of her wardrobe, her eyes lingering on Clara's healing face. The length and weight of the stare grew uncomfortable but Clara had learned to never take her eyes off of Ada, so she waited.
Finally, Queen Ada said, “We have come to bring you back to the sphere. There is much planning and discussion for your Wedded Day.”
Clara knew what would happen but she spoke the words out loud, “I will not go back. I do not wish to be wife to Prince Frederick.”
The slap rang out in the meadow, Clara's head rocking back and hitting Matthew's chest. The Queen raised her hand again and Matthew captured her scrawny wrist easily, jerking her close to his face, while putting Clara behind him. “You will never lift a hand against her again.” he growled out as he releas
ed her so hard she stumbled backward, Henry catching her, his eyes meeting those of the savage.
Yes, Henry thought wildly, this goes most badly. He held the Queen, her state of drunkenness notwithstanding as she could be quite lucid when deep in the cup.
“I am not wont to strike a female, madame,” he said the word like rodent, “but for you, I would make an exception,” his eyes glittering with intent. Ada immediately understood the potential in them.
She turned her eyes to Clara, seeing her hand print upon the girl's face and realized that mayhap if she had handled that differently, the girl would have gone with her. Now she saw all the eyes of the savages look at her with disdain. How dare they? her eyes narrowed to slits. She was Queen here; they were nothing. She slapped at Henry's hands when he would keep her from saying more.
Charles and Matthew blocked Clara from her sight, but she would be undeterred.
It was Clara who parted the men and came forward. “Beating me will not make me accompany you, nothing will.” That was not entirely true but Clara suspected what awaited her return. “I have left our home sphere for my own safety,” the Queen rolled her eyes at Clara, looking as though she would weep with boredom. Clara forged ahead, “and will not return for more abuse such as I received from the Prince.” Clara left off the and you.
“A little discipline is good for all of us Clara. Look at you, you heal already. No permanent damage was wrought.”
Matthew frowned at Queen Ada, was the wretched creature deranged? Could she not see that Clara was still healing? Did she not just strike her own daughter?
Clarence said out loud what they had been entertaining, “Are you quite mad? Do you not see the abuse which still heals upon her face? Did you not just add to it by striking her?” he started pacing.
“You overstep yourself, guard,” Ada said, her glance telling him that she would never forget the comment. He cared not, he was not in the kingdom, so she was not Queen here this day, in this time.
“The Prince attacked me before I could escape the sphere. He meant to...,” Clara paused, momentarily embarrassed but pressed on, “have his way with me,” she ended flatly.
The SAVAGE Series, Books 1-3: The Pearl Savage, The Savage Blood and The Savage Principle Page 25