The Star Of Saree (GODS OF THE FOREVER SEA Book 3)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  They ate their meal in silence, all a little weary from traveling and with little to say. When they finished, Eugen sat some honeycakes on the large oak bar that spanned a quarter of the room. “I thought the little one would like something sweet.”

  Tiresias smiled hopefully at Kian. “Tempest, go with her,” the warrior said.

  The two girls leaped up from the table and jumped onto the crudely carved stools at the bar, giggling.

  “My thanks,” Kian said to the innkeeper.

  The large man waved Kian’s gratitude away with a shake of his crooked hand. “It’s my pleasure. My wife and I never had children of our own.” Giving them a quick nod, Eugen walked into the back, wiping his gnarled hands on his apron.

  Kian glanced at Katrina and found her staring at him with an odd expression.

  “Eugen seems a good man,” he said.

  “He is. My country gives birth to many strong men with good hearts. It is a shameful disgrace that they are ruled by black-hearted tyrants.”

  “Perhaps you and Vladimir and the others that aid your cause will change that one day.”

  “Why don’t you join us? A man like you could be of great help in the days to come.”

  Kian sighed and tapped the rim of his mug. “I wish you and your countrymen the best, Katrina, but I cannot get mixed up in your rebellion. I have to get these young ones to a place they will be safe. I won’t let the inquisition claim them as victims because I tarried here in Trimenia. Besides, my help always seems to carry a heavy price, a price that is most often paid in blood. If I stayed, you may find yourself wishing I hadn’t.”

  Katrina ran her hands through her thick hair and leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “I am surprised. I thought you were a man that would want to see justice done, a man who would stand against Serban and his swine.”

  Kian brows wrinkled and he gave the young woman a quizzical look. “What would make you think that?”

  “Julian is not the only one in Trimenia that has come across you, Kian Cardan. I remember you very well.”

  Frowning, he tried to think if he had seen the woman before, but he could not place her. “Have we met?”

  “In a fashion, yes. Several years ago, Baron Serban hired mercenaries to attack my village. They came out of the night like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves. We tried to fight back, but it was hopeless. Our homes were put to the torch and the survivors rounded up. Those who would not turn a profit or bring the sellswords a night of pleasure were put in an old barn to be burned alive. One of those filthy dogs held me while I watched them drag my mother by her hair inside the barn with the others they deemed worthless. I thought that would be the last I saw of her, my mother would be dead and after those vermin finished with me, I would be killed or sold to a brothel for a few pieces of silver. Then one of the mercenaries, a half-elven warrior, appeared. Though terribly wounded, he stepped forward and killed the mercenary captain. He and a few of his companions backed down the rest of the sellswords with a courage I never knew existed. That warrior saved me, my mother, and the rest of the people that had been lucky enough to survive that awful night. Does that sound familiar, swordsman?”

  Kian hung his head as a touch of shame washed over him. He well remembered the raid. Katrina reached across the table and touched his hand. His eyes met hers. “So you see, swordsman, I don’t know if I should love you or hate you, my heart is torn on the matter, but I will never forget that night. Trimenia is suffering, and your blade would greatly help our cause. Please think on it. Winter here. I know many places those girls could stay, and they would be well protected. Trimenia needs a man with courage like yours. We need a hero, Kian.”

  Kian shook his head. “I have pity for your people’s plight, but I am no hero, Katrina…” Before he could finish, Eugen came from the back with and elderly woman clad in a homespun dress. Wisps of gray hair poked out from under the tattered scarf that covered her head. “I have news, Trina,” the woman said, wringing her hands as she came towards them.

  Katrina came to her feet and gently took the old woman by the shoulders. “Calm down, Oana. What is it?”

  Exhaling slowly, the old woman went on, “Yesterday, Archbishop Lech and that monk from Tyro made an announcement during mass; they intended to execute several prisoners that carry the cursed blood. They’re going to burn them in front of the cathedral just before sunset today, and they have requested that the whole city attend.” The old woman took Katrina’s face in her hands. “The prisoners are children, Trina, some even babes. They may be pagans, but someone must stop it.”

  “What kind of monk?” Kian asked, his tone low and intense.

  The old woman took a step back, as if noticing Kian for the first time. “He is one of the Brotherhood of the Blessed. He, along with a few of the Hand of God, came to aid Archbishop Lech with the inquisition sometime back.” Oana quickly looked away from him and turned her attention back to Katrina. “How can they call themselves holy men and murder children in God’s name? I don’t care what color their blood is, that is a sin. I never thought Archbishop Lech would condone such a horrible thing.”

  The female fighter smiled weakly. “I will try and gather some men. We will attempt to free the prisoners if we can.”

  The old woman shook her head. “There are few of us left in the city and no one will want to make a stand against the archbishop and that monk. Many think they are right and it is God’s will that the children burn.”

  Kian came to his feet. The thing inside him had begun to stir. “No one is going to burn.”

  “Are you going to help us free the captives?” Katrina asked.

  “I need no help,” he shouted, slamming his fist on the table and cracking its thick oak top.

  Both women stepped back, stunned by his unexpected rage. Taking a deep breath, the swordsman calmed his anger and lowered his voice. “I have done this before. There is no need to risk yourself or your men, Katrina.”

  “You can’t stop them alone, stranger,” Oana said. “There are at least a dozen members of the Hand and Archbishop Lech has soldiers that were assigned to the Church by the king. They’re not much, but you’ll be out numbered at least twenty to one. You will have no chance.”

  Ignoring the old woman’s warning, Kian motioned for Tempest, who sat at the bar wide-eyed. She leaped off the stool and came to him. Kian put his and on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “There is going to be a fight. I need you to take Tiresias outside the city. A few miles to the south, we passed an abandoned farm. The house had burned down but an old barn whose roof had collapsed on one side still stood. Do you know the place?”

  Tempest nodded. “Yes, I remember passing it.”

  “Take Tiresias and wait for me there.”

  “I could stay; you know I can hold my own in a fight. I am not afraid.”

  A thin smile crossed Kian’s face. The young woman was not more than sixteen or seventeen, yet she was more courageous than many men he knew. “I have no question of your bravery, Tempest, but you can best help me by seeing to Tiresias.”

  Tempest bowed her head with reluctant agreement.

  Kian could see she was disappointed at being sent away, yet there was no other choice. One of the Blessed was involved, and that meant there would be magic.

  “Listen, Tempest, I will wait as long as I can. You use that time to get as far out of town as you can before the trouble starts. I don’t know how long it will be before I can rejoin you. If I have not come in three days, find a place to stay for the winter. When spring comes, head north as fast as you can and don’t look back.”

  The young woman swallowed hard and embraced him. Kian knew she would follow his instructions to the letter.

  Taking some coin from his pouch, he turned and tossed the small bag to Tempest. Laying a handful of silver on the bar, Kian looked at the innkeeper who had been quietly listening to the conversation. “Eugen, would you be so kind to pack a week’s worth of food for these two girls?”


  “They are welcome to stay with me and my wife till this is over,” Eugen offered.

  “I thank you for the kindness, but it is best they are out of the city. Though if something should happen to me, I would be grateful if you could see to them till the winter passes.”

  “Of course, it would please me to do it, and my wife would be beside herself with joy if I brought those two beauties home. She always wanted a pair of daughters.”

  “Before you agree, Eugen, it is only fair you know who you’re helping.” Pulling back his hood, Kian stared at the innkeeper. The man’s brows furrowed and his lips slowly parted as he stared at Kian’s ears and golden eyes.

  “I am Kian Cardan, and I am an enemy of the Church. As you can see, I am not human. These children bear the cursed blood. If you are caught helping us, they will kill you for it.”

  Eugen took a deep breath and laid his misshapen hands on the bar. “The Church says that your kind is evil and those with the blood are the spawn of the Beast.”

  “What do you say?” Kian asked, his hand slowly falling to his sword.

  “I say I have a hard time believing the color of a man’s blood makes him evil, and I will never side with anyone that would burn a child just because they were born different. My offer still stands, warrior.”

  “You are a good man, Eugen, a rare find in these times. You have my thanks.” The former blacksmith held out his crooked hand and Kian took it; he would have to hope the man would honor his word

  “Tempest, if I can’t come to you, Eugen will. He will see you safe till winter passes.”

  The girl leaped at him and wrapped her arms around him again. “Please be careful, Kian. You are all we have.”

  Lifting her chin, he made her meet his eyes. “You know I am not an easy man to kill. Everything will be fine. Now, get ready to go. If Eugen has a quill, I will draw you a map as best I can. In the spring, follow it if need be. Hopefully, it will lead you to the place we talked about.”

  Tempest kissed his cheek and went to help Eugen with the provisions.

  Kian looked down to find Tiresias hugging his leg and looking up at him. The child had the most beautiful blue eyes. “I don’t want you to go, Father,” she whispered.

  Pulling her little arms from his leg, the warrior squatted down. “I am not your father, little one, and these children I go to help are just like you. What if I would have not tried to save you from the priest’s fire?”

  The little girl thought for a moment. “You should help them, Father,” she said, ignoring his statement regarding his paternity. “I don’t want anyone else to burn up.”

  Kian didn’t correct her this time. If she wanted to call him father, he saw no harm in it. Besides, Tiresias’s last father had burned at the hands of their village priest, and who knew the identity of the child’s true father. “No one will burn today, little one.”

  She smiled and hugged his neck, then quickly went to join Tempest.

  Glancing up, he saw Katrina and Oana staring at him.

  “You are not what I expected, swordsman,” Katrina said with a shake of her auburn locks.

  Eugen had packed them a bag of provisions much larger than what Kian had paid for, and he had drawn a very crude map that Tempest had folded up and put at the bottom of her quiver. If things went well, the girls would need neither.

  Kian and Katrina followed the two orphans just out of sight of the city’s walls. Exchanging a quick good-bye, he watched as the two disappeared to the south. “Be safe, girls,” he said under his breath.

  “Tempest is more than a girl. She is a young woman, of marrying age in my country. She will see to the little one,” Katrina said confidently.

  The two warriors turned back towards the city. “I am going to help you whether you like it or not. I will gather what men I can and be ready by dusk,” Katrina said as they walked along.

  The sun tried to peek through the clouds as they walked toward the city gate. Kian gauged it was afternoon; the sun would set in just a few hours. There was little time to prepare. He didn’t want to involve the rebel woman in his feud with the Church, but if she wanted to fight, who was he to forbid it? “If you help me, you will make yourself an enemy of the Church.”

  “The Church matters little to me. It has never helped those who truly suffer in this kingdom,” Katrina said hotly.

  Kian said nothing. The woman was passionate about her convictions and she was bold. It might not hurt to have some help for a change. By the old woman’s account, there were several captives and some were children. It would be easier to have others to help spirt them away.

  “Now listen, swordsman. We have rescued many of our warriors from Serban over the years. I have a plan, but we will need a distraction.”

  “I will see to that,” he said grimly

  “You know something that will pull the priests attention away from such important prisoners?”

  “I do,” he said

  “Well, do you mind telling me what that is?”

  Kian glanced at the woman from corner of his eye. “Me.”

  * * *

  The day was growing dark and colder as the large crowd gathered in front of the cathedral murmured impatiently for the gruesome event to start. The smell of human flesh would soon fill the air, an occurrence that was happening all too often since the inquisition had reared its ugly head. Though the entire city had been asked to turn out to watch God’s justice be administered to the enemies of the Church, less than a thousand people stood witness outside the cathedral.

  Three stakes had been fashioned with planks nailed crossways on their ends so they could stand erect on the cobbled street. Wood and thatch soaked in pitch had been stacked around their base.

  Another small pyre had been built near the stakes. The logs were carefully stacked to form a square on the stone street. Smaller sticks and tinder filler its center and it had all been doused in pitch. Katrina assumed the neatly constructed bonfire was to toss the babes into once it had been set ablaze. Too small to lash to a stake, the priests would simply hurl the infants into the flames.

  She had heard the stories of the burnings, though she had never seen one. Trimenia was a devoted kingdom, and many tried to adhere to the ways of God as best they could. She never had much use for religion and gave little thought to the goings-on of the Church, but this was despicable. Killing an enemy was one thing, burning women and children was another, and Katrina didn’t believe she was the only one who felt that way.

  It made her remember that night in her village. Her mother would have suffered the same fate if not for Kian. It was the real reason she was risking so much to aid him. Her honor demanded it.

  A dozen rebel agents were all she could manage to assemble in such a short time. Six were hiding on nearby rooftops while the rest stood in the crowd with her. She was known in Brova as a rebel wanted by the crown. She hoped the day’s fading light and the hooded cloak she wore would hide her identity until the fighting started.

  The plan was simple. Kian would draw the attention of the priests and soldiers, while under the cover of the archers’ fire, she and the others would snatch the prisoners and get them out of Brova before the city watch could organize any pursuit.

  Katrina had no idea what the swordsman had in mind, but it would have to be quick. They couldn’t afford to get into any lengthy confrontation. They were still outnumbered and even with the watch scattered through the city, it would only be a short time before the city guardsmen could gather and attack in force. Katrina told her men that if things looked like they were going to go bad, the Church’s captives would have to be abandoned. There was no sense risking men sworn to the rebellion on this chancy rescue. They needed every man they could get if they were going to rebuild their army and have any chance of defeat Serban.

  Looking up, she guessed it was near half an hour before sundown. The creak of the church’s large doors pulled her attention away from the sky. Twenty soldiers marched out of the church and
formed a semicircle in front of the crowd. The king’s regulars were in their dress uniforms of burgundy and black, each with a deep red plume fixed to their helmets. Holding their halberds out in front of their steel breastplates, the soldiers looked more like they were about to march in a parade than hold back anyone foolish enough to interfere with God’s holy work.

  Archbishop Lech and the monk from Tyro led the procession out of the doorway and down the steps of the church. The elderly archbishop held three fingers up in the sign of his god, muttering a prayer as he came forward.

  The monk looked smug, she thought, almost proud of the horrible act he was about to take part in. The prisoners came next, all dressed in white chemises with a dozen members of the Hand of God surrounding them. A tall pretty woman came out first with two small girls following her like ducklings, each one’s hair black as the night. Behind them, three members of the Hand of God kept pace with the group, each carrying a small child in their arms.

  Katrina’s heart began to beat faster at the thought of watching those children being tossed into a fire. How could her people standby and allow this to happen? What was wrong with them? Were they so blinded by their faith that they could not see the wrong in it?

  The large woman began to struggle with two of the Hands. The warrior priest grabbed her by the arms, pulling her toward the stakes. She jerked and kicked at them, but they managed to move her along. She began to plead for the children, begging the priest to spare them, but her cries fell on deaf ears. The prisoners were lined up before the pyres while Archbishop Lech said a prayer for their souls.

  The only salvation the woman would find today was in the swords of Kian, Katrina, and her men. If they could not get to them in time, the woman and children would die horribly.

  There were over thirty fighting men in the street. How Kian thought he was going to draw all their attention was beyond her. Glancing in every direction, Katrina scanned the crowd for any commotion or disturbance. If he was going to do something, it would have to be soon.