Prince of Bryanae (Bryanae Series)

by Jeffrey Getzin

  The Prince’s lips wavered like an undulating sea before he spat out: “He is.”

  “Who is?”

  “Him. The Warlord.”

  She lifted her head as much as possible, rolled her eyes all the way down, but saw no one in the cell.

  “Is he outside the cell?” she whispered. “Can he hear us?”

  Vazerian shook his head.

  Willow fought to keep the exasperation from her voice. “Then why are you so afraid?”

  The Prince lowered his head, but kept his eyes on hers. His expression was haunted, and she shivered.

  “You don’t know him, Captain. You don’t know what he’s like. He’s the most”—he glanced behind him, then dropped his voice to a pained whisper—“horrible man that has ever lived. The things he’s supposed to have done, the things I’ve seen him do …!”

  The Prince’s voice dropped off. Willow could only imagine.

  “What has he done to you, Your Highness?”

  He dropped his gaze to the floor again and shook his head.

  “Your Highness …” she said, but he gave no response. “Vazerian.”

  The Prince glanced up at that. Even in the depths of his terror, the overly familiar use of his name had shocked a response from him.

  “Vazerian,” she repeated. “I need you to be strong. Can you do that?”

  “I … I don’t think so.”

  “Yes, you can.” Damn that stupid chin strap. She couldn’t look at him face-to-face. It was impossible to boost the courage of that rabbit like this. Nevertheless, she had to try.

  “You can, Vazerian. You’re made of strong stuff. Your parents are the strongest, bravest people in all the land. You’ve got all their potential, plus you have an inner strength that I think will allow you to surpass them someday. You will be a magnificent king, Vazerian. You just have to trust yourself.”

  Her words seemed to be having an effect. The Prince raised his eyes to meet hers again.

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Vazerian … Prince Vazerian, I know so. There are two things I know: kings and soldiers. I think you’ll be outstanding as both. But I need you to be brave. I need you to undo my straps.”

  Vazerian shook his head a moment. “I never met my father. He was brave?”

  He meant King Eric the Strong, of course. Willow was so frustrated that she was sorely tempted to tell him that King Eric wasn’t really his father. In fact, in an ironic twist of fate, Vazerian’s half-brother was probably no more than fifty yards from where he stood, and neither of them were any the wiser.

  But no, this was not the time for shattering illusions. She kept her answer factual. “Your father was one of the bravest men I have ever met,” she said. “I often wondered if he was even capable of fear.”

  “So I’m not like him then,” Vazerian said, sounding deflated.

  She fought from groaning.

  “Not in that respect, no. You’re more like your mother: brilliant and fierce, capable of fear yet not letting it dominate her. And if you ask me,” she added, “that’s closer to true nobility. A man without fear is only half a man. What’s important is how he deals with it. Now, undo my straps. Quickly, Your Highness!”

  Vazerian took a tentative step forward, but then immediately retreated again.

  “No, you don’t know him,” he said, his voice shaking, his hands shaking, his whole body practically shaking. He took a step away from her. “You don’t know the Warlord.”

  “Give me a weapon and I’ll gladly make his acquaintance!”

  Discipline, Willow. You’re losing control, and more importantly, you’re losing him!

  The Prince fled a few paces from the cell.

  “Wait, Your Highness! Don’t go!”

  His footsteps froze in the hallway, and then he moused his way back to the cell door. “I … I have to give you the Warlord’s message.”

  “Undo my straps, Your Highness. While we still have a chance.”

  The Prince closed the cell door and locked it. He cleared his throat, and then said, “By order of the Great and Mighty Warlord Rackal …”

  “What?” Willow’s blood froze solid in her veins.

  “… the elf-cunt Waeh-Loh and her black monstrosity companion …”

  “You mean the Warlord Jabar, don’t you?”

  “… Tamlevar have hereby been found guilty of violating the Law of the Land …”

  “Vazerian, you mean Jabar, right? Rackal’s dead!”

  “… and are hereby sentenced to die during the next gladiatorial games, the date of which …”

  “Rackal’s dead, Vazerian. I saw him die! You mean Jabar, don’t you?”

  “… has yet to be determined.”

  The Prince started to leave, then paused briefly to say, “I’m so sorry, Captain Willow. I’m sorry I’m not as strong as my parents. I really wish I were.”

  He walked off: Step, drag … Step, drag …. Step, drag …

  “The Warlord Rackal is dead,” she called after him, her voice rising in panic. “He’s dead, I tell you. I saw him die myself!”

  “Willow,” called Tamlevar. “What’s going on?”

  “He’s dead. I saw him die! I saw him die!”

  Chapter 56

  Willow dreamed of being chased through a topiary maze by the ghost of the Warlord Rackal. She scrambled through identical-looking passages, her hands and arms raw and bleeding, trying to find the exit before the wraith caught her and dragged her through the earth to one of the numerous hells.

  She found herself at a dead-end. Desperate, she began to climb up the thorny face of the wall. When she was halfway up she froze: he had found her! She felt the tips of his icy-cold fingers brush the back of her neck, begin to encircle it.

  The clang of the cell-block door awakened her.

  “Hey, Tamlevar.” It was Snyde’s voice. “How are you doing?”

  “Hey, Snyde. Why don’t you come in here and find out?” Tamlevar’s voice was raw from hunger and thirst.

  Willow heard Snyde’s dry chuckle. “I don’t think you’re in any condition to do anything, no matter where I am.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “Perhaps later.”

  “I’ll be here whenever you work up the courage, Snyde.”

  Snyde’s footsteps approached Willow’s cell, but stopped before he reached it.

  “Hey,” he said. “Hey you. Wake up. Come on, wake up.” She heard clanging on bars; it caused her own door to rattle too. “Yes, you. Wake up. Do you understand me? Do—you—understand—me?”

  Snyde grunted in disgust. “Stupid lizard. What a waste of space. Come along, kid.”

  The footsteps continued to Willow’s cell. She made out two people: clearly, one was Captain Snyde. The other one, presumably the ‘kid,’ was lighter and had a softer tread.

  “Hello, Willow.” Snyde’s voice was gentle and filled with sympathy. “Are you hungry or thirsty?”

  “Why did you do it, Snyde?”

  “So now you want to know, huh?”

  She tried to see him, but couldn’t get her head into a position where she could see anything else other than the top of his hair.

  “Yes,” she said. “Now I want to know.”

  “Wait here,” Snyde told the Kid. She heard the jingle of keys and then the lock clanked and the door opened. “Get the stuff ready.”

  Snyde entered her cell and stood by her head. His hand gently stroked her upper chest. She tried to bite it, but the leather restraint dug into her throat and she gagged. She noted with grim satisfaction that his hand was wrapped in a bandage: so her last desperate knife throw had found its mark.

  “Easy, easy,” cooed Snyde. He ran his hand through her hair. “Calm down.”

  “Why, Snyde?”

  Snyde shook his head, his eyes filled with sadness. “Even now, you can’t call me Eric?”

  His handsome face filled her entire field of vision. She thought of how she had …. coupl
ed with that monster, and the images filled her with revulsion. For a moment, she almost gagged. She spat in his face, and was amazed she had had enough saliva

  “Again! Why, you little whore!” Snyde hissed. He yanked away the cloth that covered Willow and wiped his face with it, leaving her naked and exposed, strapped to the table.

  Snyde’s eyes roamed her body, and his smile returned. “I have to say that I find you very … attractive like this.”

  “You would,” Willow said.

  “Listen, Willow, I think you’re over-reacting. Things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

  “Not as …!” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. She fought to suppress her rage. Discipline.

  “Look,” he said. “Let me explain what happened. Then you tell me if you would have done anything differently.”

  Willow said nothing.

  “You know the monocle? The one you smashed? I found it in Suel’s tower. It had fallen into a crack between the wall and the floor, and I never would have found it if I hadn’t’ve dropped a coin by mistake and gone to retrieve it where it had rolled.

  “My first reaction of course was to hold the lens to my eye, and to my surprise, I found myself staring into the royal chamber of the Kards, here in Ignis Fatuus. Well, it didn’t take me long to realize that I was staring through the eyes of one of the Warlord Jabar’s aides!”

  Willow couldn’t refrain from asking, “So it is the Warlord Jabar who rules?”

  Snyde fixed her with a quizzical look. “Of course. Who were you expecting: the Princess Sherrilou?”

  She did not reply. If only she could get his neck close enough to bite … Perhaps if she offered him a kiss? No, that would never work. Then how …?

  “I won’t bore you with the details of how I figured out what was going on. Suffice it to say that when I had the lens in my eye and he had the lens in his, I could see what he saw, and he could see what I saw. So after a little negotiation through gestures and pictures, we agreed to meet.

  “I managed to obtain a small row boat and rowed it out into the middle of Frost’s Vice to roughly the appointed place. There I found to my horror that I was surrounded by small canoes, each of which had several Kards archers. Stupid of me, really, not to consider a trap, but the potential for being the first ambassador to a new country had blinded me to the risks.

  “They brought me to Ignis Fatuus where I met the Warlord and his wife, your mother. The Kards interrogated me, and obviously, they were quite interested in hearing about you. The Warlord was especially intrigued: so much so, in fact, that he loaded me up with jewels and sent me back to be ‘his agent.’ My mission was to keep an eye on you, as well as to evaluate and engineer the possibility for an invasion.

  “The Kards are numerous, as you’ve heard. Since they conquered this island, more of their people have been arriving from Kardán. They’re a nomadic people by nature, you know, and apparently, they’d depleted most of the resources of Kardán whereas this place was a paradise in comparison.”

  “Yes, it was,” said Willow, placing an emphasis on the last word.

  “Would you rather have the Kards starve?”

  “Actually, yes, I would.”

  “You’re stronger than I am, then. I couldn’t let such a noble people suffer.”

  “Suffer!” Willow said. “You want to talk about suffering! What about my people?”

  “What’s the suffering of a few hundred elves compared to that of a few hundred thousand humans? The Warlord’s people were starving, Willow. It wasn’t as if they braved the journey for fun.”

  Willow didn’t reply. Snyde waited a moment, and then continued without prompting.

  “Well, morals aside, they had already been thinking of invading Bryanae, and when I told them about you, that sealed the deal. It was only a matter of when … and how.

  “You see, they had more than enough men to easily overrun Bryanae. The problem was that they didn’t have enough ships to get the soldiers there in the first place. Moreover, such an attack would have to be quick: if word got to Kyrn and the rest of the mainland that Bryanae was under attack, they’d be certain to come to Bryanae’s defense unless the Kards managed to consolidate their hold on Bryanae first.

  “So how to get ships? A big problem, really. Bryanae had an impressive enough fleet, but you can’t exactly go to the Queen and ask her for invasion ships, now, can you?

  “Now it’s funny that I mentioned the Princess Sherrilou a few moments ago. You see, it was her idea to kidnap the Prince.”

  “What?” Willow’s eyes snapped open and locked on his. “You lie!”

  “Frequently,” Snyde said, with an easy smile. “But not this time. You see, I had met her in preparation for her upcoming engagement to His Royal Fopness Vazerian. She and I were discussing the situation”—a sheepish smile formed on Snyde’s face—“in bed, and after her fourth or fifth climax (I forget the exact number), she expressed her regret at being forced to wed someone as weak as Vazerian.

  “Well, I could hardly blame her, now, could I? I mean, she was quite promising as a lover. Really! Not much of a looker, I’ll admit, but all women are beautiful in the dark.” He paused. “This isn’t upsetting you, is it?”

  Willow’s heart was fluttering, her throat was tight. The very thought of her body being defiled by this fiend made her ill. Tears brimmed just below the surface, but she kept her face impassive.

  “No,” she said, her voice calm. “Why would it? So you’ve started a collection of princesses, have you?”

  “Oh, if you only knew!” He withdrew a folded piece of parchment from his jacket. He unfolded it and turned it so that Willow could see. On it was a list of a dozen or so names.

  “So far, I’ve managed to skewer you, the Princess Sherrilou, Queen Tee-Ri, and—get this!—Queen Tiranda herself! Of course, I’ve also had Lieutenant Marcus’s mother; not sure if that cancels anybody out.

  “I’d say that all in all, your mother’s the best in bed, but Sherrilou and Tiranda both have their charms. You, on the other hand … well, at least you were”—he waved his hand, searching for the correct word—“energetic?”

  “Snyde, you do know I’m going to kill you, don’t you?”

  Snyde flashed her a grin. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

  He waited for Willow to reply, and when she didn’t he continued.

  “So, Sherrilou was going to be engaged to wed Vazerian. As I pointed out, she was quite promising in the bedroom. It seemed a real shame to tie her down to that fop boy.

  “As an aside, did you know about the time when some members of the Guard brought in a local girl to light his royal wick?” Snyde shook his head in amusement. “We spent at least a week looking for the best-looking peasant girl. We finally found this one girl. She had enormous tits and a smile that would give you a hard-on just looking at it. We paid off her father and bribed all the guards so that we could sneak her into the Prince’s room. Do you know what he did with her? I’ll be damned if he didn’t spend the entire evening talkingwith her!”

  Snyde laughed, his perfect white teeth gleaming in the flickering torch-light. Willow tested the bonds that held her wrists once more, but of course, they held fast.

  “I’m not making this up. The boy told her his dreams and aspirations. Do you know what he wanted to be when he grew up? A circus clown! The boy wanted to run away and join the circus!”

  Snyde laughed again, this time a full belly laugh. Then he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and continued.

  “Clearly this was not a good match. But how to prevent it?

  “It was the Princess who gave me the idea. She remarked how she just wished that someone would come along and kidnap the Prince. Her problem would be solved.

  “That got me thinking. If the Kards were to kidnap Vazerian, obviously the wedding couldn’t take place. But more so, they could then use the Prince to blackmail Bryanae into giving them ships. If you recall, we were able to get the Queen to give the
m four ships: two warships, and two cargo ships. But add to that the passenger ship that she lent to Tee-Ri to return her to Ignis Fatuus and then the warship she authorized me to take for my mission (my suggestion, by the way) and you’ll see that now Jabar has six new ships at his disposal! More than enough to stage an invasion of Bryanae, eh?

  “But it gets better! You see, even though it was I who planned and orchestrated Vazerian’s abduction, the Queen saw me valiantly try to fight off the Kards with her own two eyes. I even killed a few of them—with the Warlord’s permission, of course. And then I bravely volunteered to take a select team with me to rescue the Prince. So when I return with the Prince (dead, regrettably), I will be a hero in the Guard.

  “This works for me two ways. First, I’ll be in a better position to sabotage Bryanae’s defenses against the imminent invasion. And second, in the unlikely situation that the invasion somehow fails, I’ll still have bettered my position in the surviving government! If the Kards succeed, I’ll be a hero to the Kards, and if they fail, I’ll be a hero to Bryanae. I can’t lose!”

  What a fool she was. She never should have fallen for his kindness act. Snyde was always a manipulative bastard. Dammit, she knew that, and yet she spread her legs for him the very moment he turned that evil charm of his onto her. Fool!

  “Impressive plan, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Willow tried to shake her head, but couldn’t.

  “It’s got a major flaw in it,” she said and smiled.

  “Oh?” Snyde’s own grin faltered. “And what’s that?”

  Willow said nothing, smiled knowingly.

  Snyde ran his hand along her thigh; she shuddered. “I can make you talk, you know. You’re not exactly in a position to resist me, are you?”

  Discipline.

  “Oh,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm, though surely he could hear the pounding of her heart! “Am I your prisoner? I thought I was the Warlord’s. But I’m sure he won’t mind if you despoil his prize for him.”

  Snyde stood up abruptly.

  “It’s funny you mention the Warlord, Willow. He’s taken a great interest in you. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, he expressed an interest in seeing you this very evening.”