The Star Of Saree

by A. J. STRICKLER

  “I know,” she said with a shiver. “The creature felt only rage and hunger. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t led it away from the camp.” Her voice shook.

  “The between would have killed anyone it encountered, most likely. I not sure if there is a way to influence its behavior or not. Most who have ever been cursed with the creature’s form were quickly killed, often by their loved ones.”

  “I don’t even know how it happened,” Pepca said, looking at the ground.

  Vladimir cupped her chin and raised her head. “You must take care not to let it come again. It is not a part of Trimenia or Saree; it is a perversion and abomination. You were right to call it a monster, Pepca, for that is what it truly is.”

  She swallowed hard at the thought. “I will do my best to see that was the first and only time it comes.”

  Vladimir stood and stretched his arms. “Good. Now, go see to your errands and we will start again tomorrow.”

  Pepca hopped to her feet and brushed the dirt from her knees. Vladimir stayed in the forest while Pepca made her way back to the camp alone. For the most part, she had kept to herself over the last two months. Taking care of Dimitri and dealing with her own problems had made her nearly a recluse. Besides Vladimir’s counseling, Pepca had only a few visits from Ashlyn and Tempest. Maybe it was time she started getting out more now that the weather had improved.

  It wasn’t hard to let her own troubles slip away when she thought of her brother. Dmitri was dealing with his blindness as well as one could expect, though she knew it ate at his soul to be so reliant on others. Her brother had always been very independent and very confident. Now, when he was at his weakest, Trimenia’s fate hung on his shoulders. He had personally addressed the first group of officers from the bands of deserters that had filtered in. Dimitri had thought he needed to reassure the renegade soldiers of his presence, and more importantly, his motives. They needed to know their prince was with them.

  K’xarr had him stand on a small makeshift podium so none of the Trimenian commanders could get too close. Dimitri had worn a helmet with eye guards when he had spoken to them and kept his words short, explaining the situation in the capital and how Serban had usurped the king’s authority.

  The ruse had worked. No one had noticed he was sightless. Dimitri had conveyed to them that K’xarr would act as his adjutant until they moved back north in force, and that any future orders would be sent though the mercenary captain. The officers had grumbled about taking orders from a foreigner, but in the end, they had obeyed their prince.

  Entering the lodge, Pepca closed the door and shook out her cloak. Winter was over, but the air still carried a bit of a chill. Dimitri sat at their small dining table, tapping his finger rhythmically, seemingly deep in thought.

  “Would you like me to fix you some lunch?” she asked, trying to sound pleasant.

  “No, Pepca. I am not hungry.”

  “I saw K’xarr with a group of soldiers earlier. I think more soldiers must have arrived today.”

  Dimitri nodded, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. “Is something troubling you?” she asked.

  “Have you forgotten what tomorrow is?”

  Pepca wrinkled her nose. She could think of nothing. “I must have,” she said curiously.

  “Danika’s wedding,” Dimitri said, turning toward the sound of her voice.

  Pepca covered her mouth. She had completely forgotten her sister’s impending nuptials. “Do you think it will still happen? I mean, with all that has occurred over the winter?”

  “Father can’t postpone or cancel the event. King Mayson was not overly pleased with the union in the first place. I think any delay would cause Warmark’s monarch to change his mind about the whole thing.”

  Pepca smiled in spite of herself. “Danika would be furious, and I can’t imagine what Mother would do. They had been planning the wedding since forever.”

  “It’s Serban that will see that the marriage proceeds. It is something that fiend has been in favor of all along. Father saw it as a chance to bring the country a powerful ally, and improve our trade. I think the baron had something else in mind. I have been sitting here wrestling with what his motives might be, though. I can’t fathom what that bastard’s interest would be in Danika’s marriage.”

  Pepca sat at the table with her brother. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

  * * *

  K’xarr watched the Trimenian officers as they spoke together about the disposition of their troops. K’xarr had told them that it would be best to leave the bulk of their men at the forest edge. He saw no sense in bringing the soldiers though the tangled wood. The forest was turning green again, and was already more of an irksome obstacle than it had been in the winter. It wouldn’t be long before they started for Brova anyway. Constantine had already sent men out to start organizing the people from the countryside. The rebel general claimed he could raise huge numbers now that the snows had ended. K’xarr wasn’t sure he could count on anything Constantine Miklos said. The man had been as contrary and unhelpful as he could possibly be. If there were anyone else that the rebels would get behind, K’xarr would have had Beck slit the man’s throat two months ago.

  The rebel’s prima donna nature could be dealt with later. Rufio had ridden in just before sun up, and he was anxious to hear what his lieutenant had to say. Now K’xarr waited while the Dragitan filled his belly before offering up his report.

  After the Sons had established their winter camp, he had sent Rufio back to stay in Brova through the remainder of the winter. Posing as a lone traveler, his lieutenant had frequented the city’s taverns and businesses, keeping his ear to the ground for any information he could gather. Rufio hadn’t complained about wintering in the city. It was far preferable to braving the cold with the rest of them in Trimenian’s southern forest.

  K’xarr stood, his arms behind his back, in the center of the rebel camp watching his officer finally approach. Rufio had never been overly good-humored man, but since he had lost Rachael in Masaria, the Dragitan’s mood had grown darker and so had his sarcasm.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” K’xarr asked.

  “Aye, I feel a little better now. The ride from Brova was strenuous. I slept in the saddle, and only ate a handful of dried beef during the whole trip.”

  “I think you’ve just gotten soft and lazy sitting in Brova all winter.”

  “Maybe. I had nothing to do for months, except to eat, drink, and stay warm. The only excitement in Brova over the winter was when Cromwell and Endra torched the cathedral. The people didn’t care much for that, by the way, and you can tell the Toran Bull that the rebels got all the credit for the fire.”

  K’xarr chuckled. “He won’t like that. That thickhead bastard wanted to make sure they knew it was he who killed the archbishop and ruined their grand church.”

  “I did find out something interesting just before I left,” Rufio said, lowering his voice.

  “Well, get on with it,” K’xarr said, nodding for the Dragitan to walk with him. The two casually strolled through the camp, keeping their distance from any of its inhabitants.

  “First, the wedding between Princess Danika and Prince Henry of Warmark is on everyone’s tongues. It is to be a huge affair that binds the two kingdoms in a new alliance.”

  “I know. Prince Dimitri informed me about his sister’s wedding. What else?”

  Rufio shook his head. “You have no patience. Captain. I’m getting to the important part. Serban and the king have gathered the entire royal army, as well as all the Trimenian nobles’ personal men-at-arms. The force is forty thousand strong and was sent out from Brova five days ago. Word has it they were marshaled to rid Trimenia of its rebel problem once and for all. The people say the king wants to impress his future in-laws with a show of his military’s might.”

  K’xarr’s shoulders slumped. “Forty thousand. Dimitri’s officers told me at best maybe seven thousand men may desert to joi
n our ranks, and if that idiot Constantine can muster more than five thousand peasants, I will kiss your Dragitan ass. There is no way we can take on forty thousand men.”

  Rufio shrugged. “I don’t think we will have to, at least not yet.”

  K’xarr stopped walking and faced his lieutenant.

  “What are you talking about? You just said they are coming for us, and if they marched out five days ago, we have little time to prepare.”

  “I said that was the word in Brova. I rode along after the army for a ways just to get a feel for their character. A day out of Brova, they turned to the southeast.”

  K’xarr thought for a moment. There was nothing to the southeast. Moving in that direction wouldn’t bring the army anywhere near the forest.

  “That is insane. Why would Serban march his men to the southeast? There is nothing that way but…” The light of understanding showed in the Camiran’s eyes. “Rufio, there is only one thing they could be heading for.”

  The Dragitan nodded. “Warmark.”

  K’xarr slammed his fist against his armored thigh. “While the nobility of Warmark is attending the wedding in Trimenia, that bastard is going to invade their country.”

  “I don’t think Serban gives a rat piss about the rebellion. He knows Constantine was never really a threat. This is what he has planned all along, he wants Warmark,” Rufio said with certainty.

  “How many men did he leave around the capital?” K’xarr asked.

  “I would calculate they could pull in ten thousand troops, give or take, and that’s counting what’s left of Serban’s own sellswords and the royal guard.”

  K’xarr looked around quickly, his mind was moving fast. “We need to start getting things together. I want to be headed north in three days. Maybe we can turn Serban’s little gambit against him. You head back to Brova and see if you can find out any more details. The more we know the better.”

  “I just got back,” Rufio complained.

  “You’re a cavalry officer, just get on your horse and go. We will meet you in the north.”

  Rufio frowned and banged his fist against his chest in salute.

  K’xarr returned the gesture with a half-smile. “Just one more thing, Rufio.”

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “Hurry.”

  The mercenary captain made his way to the prince’s small cabin. After what Rufio had told him, K’xarr needed to speak with the prince as soon as possible. Pepca greeted him at the door, looking confused by his sudden appearance.

  K’xarr joined Dimitri at the table where he sat picking at a bowl of porridge his sister had set in front of him. The prince listened as K’xarr explained the information his lieutenant had delivered to him.

  “I don’t understand why Serban would want invade Warmark? My sister’s wedding will see them become an ally of Trimenia. Besides, King Mayson is very skilled when it comes to military matters. His forces will not be easily overcome with him leading them. Serban would be a fool to cross his border.”

  The captain fidgeted in his chair. “I know it sounds farfetched. Let us go through this. First, I need you to tell me about the wedding. How will it work?”

  “Unless it has been changed, the wedding will take place here in Trimenia. King Mayson and his queen will arrive with their servants, and any guest they have brought with them. I would also believe a good sized force of the king’s guard would accompany the groom’s party. The wedding will take place in my father’s palace with a brief celebration following. Then Danika will return to Warmark with King Mayson and his queen. A gala will be held in their capital, where Warmark’s nobles will be introduced to their new princess.”

  K’xarr rubbed his chin. “Serban is mad, but he is no fool. He will kill Mayson while the king is still in Trimenia. With their king dead, Warmark will be in chaos for a time. Perhaps long enough for the baron’s forces to deliver a crippling blow.”

  Dimitri laughed. “Impossible. First of all, King Mayson will be heavily guarded by his own men, and even if he were killed, his son Prince Eldin is very capable I have heard.”

  “I thought your sister’s future husband was the eldest son?”

  “Henry is the heir, though completely inept when it comes to the military. Eldin is the one who would take up his father’s sword, and Mayson’s death would only rally the army of Warmark.”

  “Are there any other siblings?” K’xarr asked.

  “The only other sibling is Princess Ada. She is but a young girl and no factor.” Dimitri pushed his bowl of porridge away and sat up straighter in his chair. “I must ask why you think Mayson would allow such a force near his border. I’m sure he has a spy or two in Trimenia and they would have told him if the Trimenian army was nearing his kingdom. The King of Warmark is a suspicious man, he would take offense at such a force so close to his homeland.”

  “Unless Mayson has been told the army is in the south because that’s where we are. He could have been made to believe that your father’s soldiers are just out hunting rebels, and no threat to his lands. After all, who would start a war just when an alliance had been reached?” K’xarr said, raising his eyebrows.

  It was Dimitri’s turn to think. “It still seems an insane plot, but even if what you say is true, we are too late to stop it. Mayson has arrived at the palace by now.”

  K’xarr slapped the blind prince on the shoulder. “You’re right, Highness, we can’t stop it, but we can damn well use it to our advantage.”

  * * *

  The camp was alive with activity as Kian made his way towards the Sons’ camp. Tempest had been readying the children for the move north. With all six, the poor young woman had her hands full. He decided to go and mention the situation to Endra and see if she had time to give Tempest a hand with them. He could handle the three girls, but the smaller children’s care was a mystery to him.

  Endra had been distant since they had returned with Dimitri. She had been spending a great deal of time in the company of her fellow mercenaries. Their conversations had been few over the last two months of the winter. Kian also thought it strange that Endra hadn’t spoken about the two of them getting married since they left the barn near Brova. She had been so excited about the prospect of a wedding that he found it odd she had not mentioned it again. The two of them hadn’t even made love since they returned, though Kian thought that may have been due to the close quarters.

  They shared their lodge with the children, Tempest, and often Cromwell and Ashlyn, but Endra had never been shy with her affections before.

  The children had not fared much better than he. Endra had spent little time with them as well, always citing she had put off her duties to the Sons long enough. It was curious, but he had little time to ponder his lover’s puzzling behavior.

  Kian had not felt well of late. The end of winter had found him with pounding headaches and a great deal of discomfort in his chest. The worst symptom was the darkening of his thoughts. The animal inside him even now began to cow before the ever encroaching darkness. It was a daily battle to keep the malevolence at bay, and he feared he was losing the fight.

  K’xarr had the Sons preparing to move, and hundreds of men were making ready to go to war. Kian had heard that their captain had given three days to finish their preparations.

  Cromwell met him as he neared the mercenaries.

  “Kian, I am glad to see you. Have you heard we are finally going to get out of this wood? I have been itching for a fight all winter. With Morgana gone, I have had little chance to use my muscles of late.”

  One side of the swordsman’s mouth rose in a half-grin. “Aye, my friend. I didn’t want to take part in this war, but it seems I have one more fight to finish before Endra and I can head north.”

  “So you decided to come along with us then?”

  Kian nodded. “It is only right that Julian, Morgana, and everyone that has suffered at this creature’s hands have their justice.”

  Cromwell’s brows lower. “I want
more than justice, brother. I want blood-soaked revenge. If not for the shaggy-haired princess and her brother, I would burn Brova to the ground.”

  “Serban is the enemy, and any that follow him.”

  Cromwell snorted. “I wish I could see things that way, but the longer I travel the world, the more I see enemies at every turn, Kian. There is always someone at our throats.”

  The swordsman could think of no good argument. He too had seen little compassion in the world, especially for those who were different. “Have you seen Endra?”

  “Aye, I saw her talking with that scar-faced wolf Kattan,” Cromwell said, jerking his thumb in the mercenaries’ direction. “Why she has befriended that cur I will never know.”

  “She tries to see the best in people. Endra looks past what is on the outside and sees the person within. It is her nature. Look how she took Ashlyn under her wing after Masaria. Endra has a soft spot for the troubled and tormented. I think those afflicted with some kind of suffering remind her of her own pain.”

  Cromwell scoffed. “I still hate Kattan. The only pain he has is the one he causes my ass.”

  Kian patted his friend on the arm as he passed into the thong of mercenaries. He saw Payton and Vinsant each carrying a bundle of spears over their shoulders. The boys gave him a quick wave as they hurried past. He needed to spend more time with the boys. Before long, they would be young men, and have no time for him.

  Weaving his way through the warriors, he spotted Endra standing in front of a tent, laughing with Kattan and a few other men. She was dressed in a loose white shirt and leather breeches tucked into her boots. Her black hair was loose and spilled onto her strong shoulders. By the gods, she was beautiful, he thought.

  She saw him and nudged Kago with her elbow. The man gave Kian a quick glance and walked away. Endra regarded him with her dark eyes and pursed her lips. She didn’t seem glad to see him. “What are you doing down here? We’re all busy trying to get ready for the ride north.”