Lark gulped.
“Now, be good girls, will ya, and sort. By color, pattern, and texture. Mind ya, I’m looking for consistency here. I don’t want my furniture ta come across as low class or common. I have a sense of style ta uphold, ya know.”
Ally gasped as she picked up a skimpy, bubble-gum-pink silk thong. “These are mine. Not only are they mine, but that…that panty thief stole them from my dirty clothes. Eww, now that’s just nasty.” She quickly tucked them into a pocket.
Laycee put her hands on her hips and glared. “If ya all insist on examining every single pair, we’ll still be sorting this time next year. As far as taking them from your dirty clothes, my Leeky is the cleanest person I know. I’m sure they’ve been laundered. I mean, look around, do ya even see a speck of dust anywhere?
“And, Miss Allyssa Hammerstrike, ya put those panties right back where ya found them this instant. My Leeky stole those fair and square, and ya won’t be shoplifting his property while I’m around. Matter of fact, ya should be thanking him for making ya part of history.”
Lark didn’t want to touch any of them, not even the pretty blue velvet, bikini-cut ones that looked so familiar. But she did. How could she ask Laycee for help with what she needed if she wasn’t willing to return the favor? Still, she used only the tips of two fingers to handle the garments.
Why was it, a man who had gloves for every situation imaginable, had not one single pair lying around today? She tried her best to think of something, anything, other than other women’s panties as she sorted.
She sighed. Sarco had been gone less than a full day and here she was up to her elbows in women’s underthings. Lark wondered how he was faring and hoped it was better than she.
Chapter Twenty-One
If ever a man should have kicked himself in the head before taking advice from a gnome, Sarco Sunwalker knew he was that man. The only thing he was now positive of was that he and five others were all going to die this day and very soon.
Ice, rocks, snow and trees—really big trees—whizzed by his head at an eye-popping, stomach-churning, scream-stuck-in-his-throat pace.
The scenery became no more than a blur as, faster and faster, the Miss Bunny sled sped down the nearly vertical mountain toward the looming, solid wall rimming the city of Alaria.
Sarco hastily glanced back over his shoulder and wished he hadn’t. They were still being chased by what looked to be a ten-foot high wave of crystal-white, cold-as-the-grave snow, and the inundation appeared to be catching them. It was a toss-up as to which would go splat against the quickly approaching structure first—the group of six men crazy enough to ride an inflated plastic doll down a mountainside on their bellies, or the avalanche they’d unleashed.
Sarco gasped as something sharp scored his left hip. Pain shot straight down his leg and almost caused him to lose his grip on Miss Bunny’s lifeline of a synthetic shoulder. Barely clinging with one hand as his other continued to hold onto his brother, Sarco knew what his bet on the outcome of this race would be. If he were a betting man. It wouldn’t be on the survival of the doll or any of them.
The feel of powerful fingers stretching out, gripping his arm, securely drawing him in closer, and holding him in place surprised Sarco. He chanced a quick glance at the owner of the hand and yelled a quick, “Thanks,” before he struggled once more with his grip.
The hulking barbarian didn’t even look his way or acknowledge him. Sarco could understand why. Adan’s eyes were on the sight before him. The color of his face rivaled the snow itself, and a look of complete terror was frozen on his countenance.
The massive barbarian’s fright didn’t do a thing to alleviate Sarco’s own fears, and it took him totally by surprise when Adan yelled back, “You’re welcome, Sunwalker. Didn’t do it for you, though.” Adan’s wide-eyed gaze stayed riveted on the disaster that awaited them at the bottom of the mountain. “Still not sure how I feel about you becoming part of my family. Lar—I mean, Aryanna would never forgive me if I let you die in our own homeland. I’m doing it for her—”
At that moment, they hit a ridge and caught air. The sound of little girl screams rent the air, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Sarco realized they’d come from him. Even in the frigid cold, heat crept up his cheeks. No one else noticed, however, as, with a thud, the doll and all six of her passengers hit the frozen ground hard and kept going.
“Left, Leeky. Steer her to the left,” Adan shouted. “See the entryway through the wall? Yes, that’s it, now straighten her up. Faster, Leeky. The snow’s catching us.”
Time and space slowed, and Sarco could see every detail of each passing tree, rock, and snowbank. He could smell the tang of pine and wood smoke in the air. He could hear the howling of the wind and feel his heartbeat as it pounded in his chest.
He tried to keep his eyes trained on the finish line, the beckoning opening in the wall below, but he couldn’t. The sight of Leeky playing a real-life version of Ride ‘Em Cowboy down a mountain of ice while straddling a plastic doll was more disturbing than it had ever been to stumble on Leeky playing the silly game with Laycee.
Leeky “the daredevil” Shortz, with his salt-and-pepper tufts of hair flapping in the wind and a look of total exhilaration on his face, rode Miss Bunny as if she were a bucking dragon and he some bizarre tournament-of-champions star.
Leeky “the wrangler” Shortz kept one hand firmly fisted in the doll’s hair while his other red-mittened hand reached back and periodically slapped Miss Bunny’s boob.
Leeky “the slightly touched in the head” Shortz yelled at the top of his lungs with what sounded suspiciously like glee or perhaps insanity, “Didn’t I tell ya she could do it? Giddyap, lass, faster, giddyap. Yee haw!”
The doll gave the gnome what appeared to be a conspiratorial wink and if possible, her smile grew wider. Sarco shook his head. If he hadn’t completely lost his mind, and he wasn’t sure he hadn’t, their speed did increase.
He caught sight of Sherman out of the corner of his eye and wished he could’ve said or done something to help the halfling. The little guy’s eyes were closed. His hands gripped the doll’s other shoulder so tightly his knuckles were completely white. From the way his lips constantly moved, it was obvious he was praying, and his face had taken on a green hue. Sarco sympathized, but when this ride came to a halt, he knew he wouldn’t want to land anywhere near poor Sherman if he could possibly help it. There was no doubt in Sarco’s mind that when they did finally come to a stop, the first thing the halfling would do, if still alive, was barf or piss himself.
Sarco had no idea his stomach could lurch harder than it already was until they flew over a small outcropping. Miss Bunny crossed legs in midair like a ballerina, and Uthiel was suddenly beside Sarco. He was still clinging to a thigh, with his body draped across the doll, and Cyrrick and Sherman were now side-by-side in the same manner.
Uthiel yelled over the roar of the rushing snow right behind them, “Should’ve brought Briar after all. We’re going to need a healer when this is over. If we live through it.”
That did make Sarco laugh.
Until they hit the ground.
The laughter and the air were knocked from his lungs. At least a couple of bones creaked if not cracked and muscles he hadn’t realized he had spasmed as the doll went head-over-hindquarters on the cold, hard ice. Right through the open gates of Alaria they slid and came to a stop in the middle of the courtyard.
The deafening sound of the avalanche hitting the solid rock wall shook him to the core, but the pounding of Sarco’s heart rang even louder in his ears. The wall held the onslaught of snow. They had done it. They were safe. And as he looked around, he realized they were all still alive.
“What the pink-plaid tutu on the torso of an ample-busted, black-haired ogre miss plying her trade on the street corner do ya have ta say about that, lads? Wasn’t that just as much fun as I said it’d be? Who’s for taking her back up ta the top and doing it again?”
N
o one raised a hand or even looked at the gnome as the group slowly stood up and dusted snow and debris off themselves.
After a few moments of silence, Adan asked the question everyone else was afraid to. “Well, Sunwalker, did the flower make it? I’d hate to think we just did that for naught.”
Five pairs of eyes waited anxiously as Sarco stuck his hand into his pocket and drew out the frozen orb. With a sigh of relief, he held up the fist-sized, perfect sphere of ice for all to see.
Sunlight reflected off and through the globe. Inside, still frozen solid, glittered a perfect, golden-petaled Maiden’s Desire bloom. Six deep breaths were let out in a rush. None louder than Sarco’s.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a safe, cold place to store this in your castle, would you, Adan? Just until we finish the next part of the quest? I’d sure hate to try and keep it frozen where we’re heading tomorrow.”
For the first time ever, Sarco heard Adan laugh, and the sound, though much deeper than hers, reminded him of Lark. For a moment, his heart contracted painfully with loneliness, and he wondered what she was doing right now.
Adan’s next words, though they didn’t alleviate the pain, helped a little. “This is a land of ice, Sunwalker. I’m pretty sure I can find some to spare around here someplace. The royal vault comes to mind. We can stoke it with plenty of the frozen stuff to keep that thing from melting for a millennium if need be. We’ll put it in the vault first thing when we get to the castle. I can’t wait to be back in my own home, if just for the night. I’ve a powerful need for a warm fire to thaw out our bones, hot food to fill our bellies, fine ale to sooth our souls, and a good night’s sleep. I don’t know about the rest of you, but every muscle in my body hurts and, if I’m not mistaken, I think half my teeth have rattled loose. I’ve had all the questing I can stand for one day.”
For the first time all day, Sarco felt the comforting effects of a genuine smile cross his face as he followed Adan toward the castle. But the sound of the clearing of a gnome throat stopped them all in their tracks, even the hulking barbarian.
“Where the frozen dingleberries hanging off the bare, hairy arse of a high-mountain polecat peeing on a flat rock do ya think you’re going, Adan Hammerstrike? Aren’t ya forgetting something?”
Adan whipped around, and Sarco enjoyed the expression on the face of the other man. The barbarian prince at first looked confused, then understanding dawned. He walked up to Leeky, plucked Miss Bunny up, and cradled her in the crook of his arm. With his other hand, he hefted the gnome and placed him onto his other shoulder.
“What are the rest of you waiting for? Let’s get a move on. I’m not carrying everyone. It’s been a long day, and Leeky, I, and Miss Bunny here are mighty cold, tired, and hungry.”
****
Good to his word, Mr. Authorn Hawthorn had the library open bright and early the next morning, a fact Lark was thankful for. Glancing around at her companions, she wondered how thankful they were. With their droopy eyes, grouchy expressions, and loud yawns, she doubted thankfulness was what they were thinking.
When she’d roused them from their beds before the sun had begun to peek over the horizon, her only thought had been to get an early start. Perhaps she should have at least allowed them to break their fast before dragging them to the library. If nothing else, she could offer them the opportunity. “Anyone need to eat first?”
Five sets of eyes looked up and brightened as heads nodded in unison toward her.
Aryanna spoke for the group. “I think we might concentrate better on the task at hand if we at least have a bite first. Don’t you?”
It was on the tip of Lark’s tongue to tell the group to go and eat without her as she looked longingly down row after row of history books. She didn’t care about the grumbling of her stomach. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember.
But, with a sigh, she followed the women out of the library and down the long hallway. She wouldn’t be able to do Sarco, herself, or anyone else any good if she didn’t take care of herself first. But knowing what was right and doing it instead of what her heart was begging her to do were two entirely different things.
Out the big, double doors of the library and across the bailey the group of women retraced their steps. Lark kept her head down and her eyes trained to the front until they stepped through another door and were safely inside a hallway.
The feeling of warmth on her arms had been the only thing telling her the sun was shining. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to look around outside at the debris still scattered around the grounds. The last thing Lark wanted was to be reminded of the devastating storm she had caused. She couldn’t afford to dwell on it. There was work to be done, and distractions and guilt would only serve to sidetrack her from her task.
Because she hadn’t been watching where she was going, she was caught off guard when the group stopped abruptly as they entered the cafeteria. Lifting her eyes, she saw her father sitting at a table all by himself, gazing at them with a questioning look on his weathered face. There was no way to avoid it. They were going to have to face him.
“Isn’t it rather early for princesses to be up and out of bed? The sun has barely broken the horizon. Your mother won’t rise for at least four turns of the hourglass yet.” His smile suddenly faded. “I don’t suppose any of you know how to spar on the practice field, do you? Longswords? Broadswords, blades, daggers, axes? Anything sharp?” He shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”
Words stuck in Lark’s throat as if she were three again and had been caught red-handed, filching her favorite cookie from the big blue jar that always sat on the counter in the corner of the kitchen, just out of her grasp.
Thankfully, Aryanna didn’t seem to have the same problem. “Good morning, father.” She laughed. “And, no, swordplay and such was always forbidden to us females, remember? That was your rule. Princesses read, princesses do needlework, and princesses look pretty. Princesses never spar.”
To anyone else’s ears the sound of the tremble in Aryanna’s voice would have been joyous, but Lark could hear the undertone of nervousness and the touch of anger Ary tried to hide. She sent a quick prayer skyward for Lord Draka to help them all.
Alfred Hammerstrike motioned to the empty chairs surrounding his table. “Well, if you can’t join me out on the lists for swordplay, the least you can do is break bread with me. Come now, all of you, sit. It’s not often I get time alone with my girls. A king’s life is very busy, you know. There are always matters of state to deal with and the queen to keep happy. Then there’s the warriors to see to and make sure they keep their skills honed. You never know when they may be needed to protect the realm. Your brother normally handles the warriors for me. He also usually spends at least a turn of the hourglass sparring with me each morning. I wonder how long he’ll be gone.”
The king sighed and the sound struck a chord deep in Lark’s soul as she took her seat along with the rest of the group. For all his power and position, King Alfred Zavier Caden Hammerstrike was a lonely man.
Her father chewed off a hunk of bread and took a long draught of his Alarian apple ale. “So, then, which is it for my princesses this morning? Reading, needlework, or looking pretty?”
Lark was surprised when the corners of her mouth lifted and she giggled right along with the rest of her sisters. She suddenly realized that before this day, she’d never been in his presence without her mother. This was a side of her father she’d never seen before. He was almost…approachable.
The gleam in Aryanna’s eyes told Lark she was thinking the same thing, and before Lark could stop her, Ary answered her father. “Reading. Well, to be precise, Father, we’re going to be doing research in the library all day, after we finish here, that is.”
King Alfred looked confused. “Research? What on Albrath would you girls have to research, the newest tapestry pattern?”
The sound of Aryanna clearing her throat settled like a rock in the pit of Lark’s stomach. She stopped sm
iling and set her eating utensil down, her appetite now gone.
“Human rules and regulations pertaining to the order of marriage.” Lark’s belly grumbled as Aryanna continued, “You see, Father, I don’t wish to marry Sarco Sunwalker, and I’m not going to. So, I need to find a way around the who-marries-whom-and-when rule.”
King Alfred Zavier Caden Hammerstrike choked, coughed, and sputtered as ale ran down his chin. His face turned bright red, and he no longer appeared jovial in the least.
Lark cringed as her father stood, slammed down his eating knife, and roared. “Just a minute here, young lady. What do you mean, you don’t wish to marry Sarco Sunwalker? I can understand you being upset about his insult to our family and all, but give the lad a chance. After all, this very moment he’s off on a quest to make up for his mistake. And, human rule or no, it’s not up to you, it’s up to your mother and me who you’ll marry. Don’t you want to be a Lady of the Realm, Aryanna? Every little princess wants to be married to a powerful leader when she grows up.”
Lark grasped Ary’s hand and squeezed. Aryanna looked at her and smiled, but there was no humor in it, only sadness. “No, Father, I don’t wish to be the wife of the next Lord of the Elves. I wish to marry his brother, Cyrrick Sunwalker. I wish to be the wife of a diplomat. It is he I love.”
The fist of the king came down on the table top with a resounding thud, and Lark glanced around quickly to see if they were making a spectacle of themselves. Luckily, this early in the morning, there weren’t many others in the cafeteria, only a solitary troll sitting off by himself in a corner. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything other than the bowl of gruel before him.
“Cease this ridiculous prattle this moment before your mother gets wind of it. Do you have any idea what she would say or how she’d react or the trouble you’d cause? Of course, you’ll marry Sarco Sunwalker when he returns and be happy to do it. Your mother and I have declared it. It’s final.”
The Academy Volume One Page 54