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

by A. J. STRICKLER

  “I believe I just saw the man you speak of. He was napping in the back of a wagon with a group of youngsters and a redheaded woman.”

  The man’s information rang true. “Where?” Cozmin asked, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice.

  “See the wood there to the south.”

  Cozmin squinted; he could just make out the tree line. “Yes, I see it.” The wood was distant, but they could be there in no time. “Are there any others with him beside the children and the redhead?” Cozmin asked.

  “Aye, a man, but I am unsure of his nature.”

  Cozmin decided not to arrest the man; he would catch up to him after he had his prize. Dallying with this loon would take too long, and he didn’t want to waste any more time. “We will be on our way then.” The captain raised his hand to signal the column forward.

  “I am afraid I can’t let you do that, Captain. Most days I would be more than happy to let you have a go at my brother, but you see, I need him in one piece just now.”

  The captain drew his sword. “Brother, eh? Throw down your weapons; you are under arrest in the name of the king.”

  As Cozmin made to advance, the man made a fist and stomped his foot. A fissure opened in front of the man’s boot and sped towards him and his men. The ground cracked open and fell away beneath them. Their horses panicked, rearing up and trying to throw their riders as they toppled into the gaping hole. His sword slipped from his hand as he watched his entire patrol be swallowed up by the enormous chasm. His horse screamed as he and the animal followed his command into the massive pit.

  Cozmin felt his ribs break as he hit the uneven ground. The astonished captain held his arm up, trying to shield himself from the dirt and debris falling from above. Many of his men were dead, and many more lay broken and bloody.

  Clutching his cracked ribs, he struggled to rise. Looking up, Cozmin saw that the terrible void’s jagged lip was more than forty feet above him. The wizard stood, grinning and appraising the damage. “I told you I was a sorcerer, Captain, and I do believe I mentioned that some people find me unbalanced.”

  “Damn you to hell,” Cozmin spat.

  The wizard raised his hand and the ground beneath him and his men began to shake violently.

  “Farewell, Captain,” the sorcerer said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  Cozmin screamed as the walls of the unnatural crater collapsed, burying him and his men alive.

  Pacing the throne room of the palace was a waste of time. Night had fallen and there were more important things to see to than entertaining his snobbish allies. The hours without the damnable sun were precious to him.

  Glancing up at the vaulted ceiling with his hands on his hips, the baron closed his eyes and tried to control his aggravation. Stomping up the dais, he swung himself into King Petru’s cushioned throne. He wasn’t sure where the king had gotten to. The little weasel had avoided him like the plague since he had nearly killed Queen Zaria. More than likely, Petru was in the upper floors of the palace holding the wretched woman’s hand. The spiteful wench clung to life like she had her hollow vanity.

  It was of little consequence. Petru was nearly insignificant now; the sniffling monarch’s reign would soon come to a well-deserved end. The death he planned for the weakling was spectacularly cruel; he just hoped the king would have to watch his beloved wife die first. Petru deserved to suffer.

  Gripping the arms of throne, Serban tapped his foot with anticipation. He needed to go down into Brova and see to his concerns there. Lech and that idiot monk from Tyro had apparently taken it upon themselves to seize Strom’s people from his castle. He had planned to use them as hostages should the mercenary’s loyalty come into question. The sellsword captain and his band of cretins were rumored to be quite proficient though troublesome. Now because of the church’s fanaticism, he had no leverage over the large band of mercenaries other than their leader’s considerable greed.

  To make matters worse, not only had Lech managed to take them from him, he also had managed to lose the whole bunch to some crazed warrior and a handful of rebels. To make things even worse still, he had received word that Strom had captured Pepca and the accursed shapeshifters and was on the way to Brova. It would be much easier if the mercenary’s people were located before he reached the city.

  He would deal with Lech later. The archbishop was a fool and a drunkard, so he could easily be handled. Several patrols had been sent out to reclaim the prisoners, but none had reported in yet. He wouldn’t allow the archbishop to have them though, no matter what color blood they had or how much the priest protested. If Strom ever became a problem, he could use them to broker a deal with the mercenary commander. If not, he would simply see the Sons of the Reaper and their captain destroyed.

  Alexis had bigger trouble than Strom and his mercenaries. Vanguard had somehow gotten wind of the incident at the cathedral, yet the powerful wizard was only concerned with the swordsman that had affected the escape of Lech’s prisoners. He had received word that the archmage was sending members of his cabal this very night to discuss the matter. For some reason, this renegade warrior must be of some importance to Vanguard and the Circle of Thirteen.

  The Circle had been useful in the beginning, but now their meddling was bothersome, and he hated their arrogant demeanor and aloof attitude. In time, he would shed himself of their unwanted interference. He would just have to be patient until he could liberate himself from the sorcerer’s unwanted interference.

  Bernard stood quietly gazing at one of the braziers that lit the large room. He was the only one other than himself that knew of the Circle’s involvement in the affairs of Trimenia, and Bernard was unconcerned by it. The huge Alarusian wasn’t much for conversation, but he was loyal and the perfect man to stand with him when the wizards decided to show their faces. The warrior was powerful and full of surprises.

  The doors finally swung open and the sorcerers slowly filed in one by one. The baron was curious who Vanguard would send to represent the Circle this time. He just hoped it wasn’t Hex; the man’s insane eyes were a significant disruption. It was clear when he saw his guests that Vanguard had decided to try a different kind of distraction.

  The first woman though the door was short, her silky black hair was long and cut into bangs that rested just above her dark eyes. The black gown she wore was tight and cut down to her naval, giving him a good look at her magnificent curves.

  Her companion was taller; large loose curls of brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in sleek waves. Leather armor cut in all the right places exposed her desirable shape, though it was the sorceress’s violet eyes that drew his gaze. They were striking and conspicuously full of an indecent allure. Neither of the women looked much over twenty, yet he knew the sorceress could be ancient.

  His mind was quickly pulled away from the lovely spellcasters when a third sorceress shuffled through the door. Clad in a filthy shroud that smelled of the grave, the woman’s face was puckered and wrinkled beyond imagination. He had never beheld anyone whose features looked so timeworn. Her hands and nails were filthy, as if she had been clawing in the dirt. A shudder went through his body when he looked into her milky eyes. Her vile gaze made him look away.

  “Baron Serban, how nice it is to finally make your acquaintance.” The shorter woman’s smooth voice pulled his thoughts away from the old woman.

  “It seems Vanguard has sent me quite the array of…beauties,” he said with a sweeping gesture that included the old woman.

  “I am Tragedy,” the shorter woman said. “And may I present Misfortune, and The Widow.”

  He bowed slightly to each. “What brings you here? Vanguard’s message was very cryptic, something about a warrior that has wandered into Trimenia?”

  “We have come to…enlighten you about what is going on under your very nose, Alexis. Do you mind if I call you Alexis?”

  He did mind, though he thought it best to stay cordial. “As you please.”

  She reached over and s
queezed his arm softly. “I like to keep things on a personal level, Alexis. It makes these kinds of dealings much more pleasant, don’t you think?”

  He nodded, not liking the arrogant tone in the little woman’s voice.

  “It has come to our attention that the Slayer is in your country.” She batted her eyes at him as if he should know of who she spoke.

  “I know of no Slayer.”

  “Trimenia is far to the north and remote, perhaps he has not heard, Tragedy,” Misfortune said, her voice low.

  Tragedy nodded and raised an eyebrow at him. “He is the man that attacked the church yesterday and freed a group of children your archbishop was going to burn. He is a half-elvish swordsman named Kian Cardan.”

  She hid it well, but he detected a hint of anger in her voice. “Yes, I heard about the incident, and sent men out to ride this half-breed cur down. He will soon be killed or hanged, and the matter will be closed.”

  “That is exactly why we have come. It would be in your best interest to let him leave the kingdom without further delay. In the event your men fail to find and stop him, which is what will most likely happen, we would like you to just let him go. Don’t send any more men or try and take any retribution. Simply let him leave Trimenia.”

  The baron chuckled in spite of the serious tone of her request. “You want me to let this man go? My men will easily catch and kill him; he only one lone warrior.”

  “You aren’t listening, Alexis. He could cause a great deal of trouble that neither you nor the Circle needs. Kian is dangerous and completely unpredictable. Let him blow though Trimenia like the wind.”

  Could it be that the Circle feared this man? Their magic was reputed to be without rival, and Tragedy acted as if this Cardan was the Beast himself. “I don’t see…”

  The short woman stepped forward and cut him off.

  “You don’t see, do you, Alexis? We pulled a great many strings for you, and still you are dealing with rebel forces in a county you claimed to control. We subtlety manipulated K’xarr Strom and his Sons to aid your cause, and you have managed to allow those ridiculous priests from the church to accost his people. No doubt they will find this a failure on the part of their employer. Strom is as nearly as problematic as the half-breed. What you don’t see is how the Circle has put you into this position of power, and you are doing everything possible to let it slip through your fingers.”

  His hands balled into fists. “How do you know all of this? Am I being watched?”

  “We have a web of agents throughout Saree, Alexis, so very little gets by us, especially where our interests are concerned. The Circle is everywhere, you conceited buffoon, a lesson you would do well to learn.”

  His nostrils flared and he raised his chin. “Be careful how you talk to me, sorceress. I am not without my own powers. You would do well not to anger me.”

  Misfortune scoffed and Tragedy smiled. “We are well aware of your…condition, Alexis.” Folding her hands in front of her, Tragedy stepped forward with sigh. “Let us be clear. You’re nothing more than a minion of the Circle. We have allowed you to rule Trimenia to serve our purpose, nothing more. If you behave yourself, when we are finished, we’ll let you have the scraps from our table like the obedient dog you are.”

  He snarled and bared his fangs.

  Tragedy giggled. “Good lady, would you explain to this vampire what I mean.”

  The old crone raised her hands and spoke a word of power. The baron suddenly found he could not move. Reaching into her shroud, the old woman pulled out a handful of tiny bones. Rolling them in the palm of her hand, the hag began muttering to herself.

  Dropping to his knees, the baron tilted his head back and exposed his throat. Misfortune pulled a large curved dagger and placed it on his neck.

  Bernard growled from the corner. Tossing his ax aside, the man began to tremble and drool.

  “Oh, I forgot about your pet.” Tragedy waved her hand, flinging the huge warrior across the room. Snarling, the blonde warrior leaped to his feet. Crashing through the chairs where the nobles sat for court, he charged the tiny sorceress like a human battering ram. Claws jutted from the Alarusian’s fingers and the lower half of his face was becoming a snout.

  Tragedy held her palm out and spoke a word. Bernard became rigid and still, paralyzed between man and beast by the woman’s magic.

  Tragedy leaned down and stroked Serban’s hair. He wanted to spit in her face, but he couldn’t even manage that.

  “You see, your self-proclaimed power is nothing more than a weakness to be exploited by those gifted in the arts. The Widow is a necromancer of unmatched skill. We could destroy you at any time we choose, you arrogant corpse.”

  The violet-eyed woman pushed the dagger hard enough against his throat to cut the skin. “You are the one who should be careful about whom you offend, blood drinker.”

  “Be a dear and release him, Widow,” Tragedy said with a flick of her hand.

  The aged necromancer lowered her hand and slid the small bones back into the folds of her shroud. Misfortune slid the dagger back behind her back and permitted him to rise.

  He hadn’t believed they could control him so easily, and his miscalculation had nearly cost him his unlife. The day would come when he would avenge himself on these haughty bitches; he would tear them apart and drink their enchanted blood. Till then, he would have to tread more carefully with the Circle. “What of Bernard?” he asked.

  “The spell will wear off soon. Now, Alexis, Vanguard wants to know when the coup you promised will come to fruition.” Tragedy spoke as if nothing had happened.

  “In the spring, I will destroy the rebels and take the throne, Warmark will be in my pocket within a short time as well, just as I have promised,” he said, rubbing his throat.

  “After you have taken control of both kingdoms, we will instruct you on how you can repay the Circle for our assistance. Till then, I suggest you get the Slayer out of your country, and mend fences with K’xarr and the Sons. They are not men you want as you enemies, and if we have to step in and aid you, well, let’s just say you would no longer be needed for our enterprise here in Trimenia. Have we made ourselves clear, Alexis?”

  “I know what Vanguard wants, and Strom and his mercenaries will be appeased, but if I can’t placate them, I will have no choice but to kill them.”

  Tragedy shrugged, seemingly not concerned for the mercenary band’s fate.

  “As for this Slayer, I will pull my men back and let him go as you ask, but what if he doesn’t leave?”

  Tragedy sighed as she turned to leave. “Then you, my good baron, will have a very big problem on your hands. I know Kian. It would take little for him to be persuaded to aid the rebels and end your existence.”

  It was his turn to scoff. “A mere swordsman could never stand against me.”

  The small woman glanced over her shoulder, peering at him from beneath her bangs. “The Slayer is no mere swordsman, which is a fact you should crave that you never discover.”

  * * *

  Halina’s farm was sturdy and well kept. She told them her two sons that lived nearby took care of any repairs that needed doing and saw to her livestock. The woman was elderly, but seemed in good health and was very kind.

  Kian and Katrina had cleaned the dried blood and stench of battle off themselves, while the old woman had seen to the children. Halina asked Eugen to milk one of her cows to fill the bellies of the three hungry infants, while she prepared a stew of beef and vegetables for the rest of her unexpected guests.

  After everyone finished eating, the aged crofter showed Kian a hatch hidden beneath her wooden floor covered by and old rug. It was where Halina planned to hide the children if Serban’s soldiers came. Kian didn’t like the idea of leaving them, but the sooner he was finished with Katrina’s errand the sooner he could return.

  Halina offered to let him and the children stay though the winter, though he could tell she made the proposal out of politeness. The look in her eye
when she spoke to him or cast a glance at Brigitte told him all he needed to know. Halina was goodhearted, but it was clear she was not fond of those of the elven race. He hadn’t bothered to even try and explain that neither he nor his daughter were truly elven. That fact would have most likely only made matters worse. Kian didn’t doubt Halina would protect the children as best she could while he was gone without compensation, but he offered her what little coin he had left for her trouble. She had refused at first, but he had insisted.

  Leaving the children behind had been difficult. Sabra and Brigitte had pouted, though to their credit, the hearty little girls shed no tears. Tiresias grabbed his leg as he and Katrina walked out the door. Tempest had to pry her loose with promises of honeycakes and games. Halina was a good woman, but his trust was in Tempest. Katrina was right. She wasn’t a girl, she was a young woman, and he knew she would die before letting any evils befall the younger children.

  He tried to let those he left behind slip from his mind as he walked south, focusing on what transpired while he slept. Looking down at the two coins in his hand, he shook his head. One gold, one silver, both struck long ago by elven hands. After Tiresias had told them about the man she met in the woods, and what the girl explained the stranger had done to the wagon, he had tested her story and found she spoke the truth. Eugen and the children could not be seen if they were inside the wagon. Katrina said even he wasn’t visible while inside it. Kian thought since the magic had been cast on the wagon and not his person, the spell had functioned as it was meant to.

  It had to be Tavantis, and the coins were his brother’s way of revealing his visit. Last Kian had seen his twin, Tavantis had become one of the undead, a foul thing of evil. Tavantis had tried to kill him and failed. Why he played at helping him now was a mystery, and not one he could solve.

  Tavantis had never offered to harm his children, though now that he was undead, he didn’t know what the wizard would do for sure. It was he who the wizard had always directed torments at. If it was his brother in the woods, it was best he was away from the little ones for now. He didn’t want them getting mixed up in their feud.