by Diane Rapp
The doctor pondered. “Maps could be useful…but if they fall into Jarrack’s hands…”
Trenton smirked. “Do those ruffians look like intellectual types? If Jarrack said to take weapons, do you think they’ll even glance at my maps?”
“He makes a good case,” Bryant agreed. “My men prefer to follow precise orders rather than make decisions themselves. With Jarrack absent, the riders might overlook drawings.”
“All right but stow the rest, quickly.” The doctor surrendered.
Trenton emptied his pack in the cave. Bryant marveled at dangerous-looking things tumbling out of the bag but felt baffled as to the practical use of each item. “That’s all the weapons I commandeered,” Trenton grumbled. The doctor scrutinized Trenton’s face. Was he reading the man’s mind? Trenton held his ground, smiling.
Bryant said, “Let’s ride. I’d rather not be stuck in desert rider territory after dark. Orders might not count if no one can spot the man doing the killing.”
As Trenton activated the force field, the horses skittered away from the shimmering blanket of air. Bryant automatically gestured a sign against evil as the cave’s entrance disappeared, looking like a solid wall of granite.
“Quite a trick,” Bryant said, trying to sound light-hearted while yearning to escape the eerie place.
“You’d never believe the gadgets I’m forced to leave inside,” Trenton said as they rode out of the basin. Trenton slouched in his saddle, trying to look bored and unconcerned. Stiff-backed, Dr. Alexander rode with cool detachment. Bryant fidgeted in his saddle, beads of sweat on his upper lip. Mentally cursing his nerves, he refused to let desert riders see him wipe his mouth like Sir Hembly dabbing with a lace handkerchief.
They didn’t wait long. Outside the spaceport, riders encircled their horses, blocking both escape and retreat. Bryant controlled his agitated mount and surveyed the enemy, noting weapons, armor, and fighting positions. Although outnumbered, Bryant’s military bearing shouted danger to experienced riders.
“Why hinder messengers of the king?” Bryant bellowed.
A scar-faced rider edged forward. “Messengers? The king sends greetings to spacer ghosts?”
Bryant mentally dubbed the rider Scarface and huffed, “It’s none of your business where the king’s messages go. Do you forget lessons of the past?”
Scarface winced. Stories of Donovan’s first meeting with the desert riders grew with each telling. Having heard the story from Donovan’s own lips, Bryant embellished the facts as he often repeated the story. After all, it was his duty to enhance the image of his king.
“We’ve got orders,” Scarface said. “You must not remove sacred objects from the land of the gods. We will search your packs.” Scarface nodded and two men approached.
“We hide nothing,” Dr. Alexander said, opening his bags. “As the Royal Physician, I carry only medicine and books.”
The rider peered into the bag, his eyes wide with fear. The king’s shaman surely possessed evil spells to strike the unwary dead. Trenton opened his pack. His eyes gleamed as the riders failed to examine meaningless papers folded neatly inside. Bryant carried a soldier’s normal kit. The riders shrugged and Scarface glared.
“I warn you!” Bryant’s voice cut through the grumbling like cold steel. “Let us pass or feel the king’s wrath. Forshell once tasted Donovan’s sword and forfeited his life. Lesser men might suffer a worse fate!”
The men gestured signs against evil. Spurring his horse, Bryant parted the riders by the force of his bearing. Trenton and Dr. Alexander followed quickly, avoiding the wild stares of the unhappy tribesman. They rode hard, eager to put distance between themselves and Jarrack’s men before dark.
******
Peld entered Jarrack’s tent, his shoulders drooping. Jarrack growled, “What did you find?”
“Nothing, sire. They carried medicine and papers, no offworld weapons.” Jarrack stiffened, his black eyes glowering.
“Fools! They smuggled weapons past you.”
“Sire, I assure you! They carried nothing of a size to hide such weapons, no pack animals or large bags.” Peld trembled, awaiting Jarrack’s punishment.
“They sought something valuable, risking the law.” Jarrack frowned, unable to grasp the reason behind such a dangerous journey. “Describe exactly what you saw.”
Mildly reassured, Peld rubbed the scar on his cheek. “The doctor carried small bottles filled with colored liquid and a black pouch containing a few small stones. The one called Trenton carried large folded papers marked with colored lines. Otherwise they possessed normal gear, bedrolls, food, and drink.”
“Maps!” Jarrack hit the table with his fist. “Those papers were maps! Why didn’t you confiscate them?”
Peld’s eyes widened and his scar turned scarlet. “You spoke of weapons! We saw no reason to brave the king’s wrath for papers or potions.”
Jarrack scowled. “Send word to our spies in the castle to get their hands on those maps. I won’t let Donovan know more of this world than I do. Leave before I strip the hide from your miserable back.” Peld scampered out of the tent.
Jarrack stared at the locked chest and blessed his good fortune. By failing in the first attempt to use the weapon, Forshell was killed. Now, as the chief of the desert riders, Jarrack’s influence grew daily. “I’m building an army and forging alliances, Donovan. In time I’ll be ready to attack.” He stroked a long black mustache, grown in the fashion of desert tribesmen. “Soon I will bend Krystal to my will.” He leered at the woman who entered carrying a tray.
“You are new to my tent. Peld sends a choice morsel to soothe my temper, I see. Did he tell you what makes me happy?” Her dark eyes widened in fright, and her hands shook as she poured his drink. “I see you’ve heard about my games; well this may prove a fine night after all.”
******
Bryant pressed on after dark, searching for signs of danger. He eyed the doctor, whose long legs dangled from the stirrups while he slept in the saddle. How could a man unaccustomed to horsemanship manage to sleep and ride? Trenton rode like a man born to the saddle, his cunning mind working on schemes. Bryant felt grateful Trenton remained loyal to Donovan. His crafty mind foiled several plots against the throne before anyone else sensed danger.
“Bryant, there’s something I’ve wondered,” Trenton said. “You’re not frightened by telepathy?”
“Telepathy?”
“You know, the mind-speech Donovan and the others use.”
“Telepathy.” Bryant formed the word in his mind to remember it later. “I don’t frighten easily.”
“Come now, most men brand mind-speech as witchcraft, yet you didn’t flinch when Donovan first told us the wolf spoke to his mind. I personally thought we’d lost you with that one.”
“Indeed, a wolf speaking surprised me, but I’ve lived through such revelations.” He scratched his head, trying to decide how much to tell. “King Halder used telepathy. I assume he learned the skill when living offworld. It gave him an advantage among the Lords.”
“Halder lived offworld?”
Bryant nodded. “As a youth he was taken offworld during the war. He described your technology of giving a man longer life—Transfer he called it. He told many strange stories and taught me to overcome my fear of technology. King Halder reigned with great wisdom so it didn’t surprise me when Donovan possessed the same skill.”
“You’re full of surprises, Bryant.”
The warrior laughed. “Not half as many as you. Where did you hide the weapon?”
“Weapon?” Trenton’s face formed a well-practiced expression of innocence.
“The weapon you smuggled from the cave, avoiding the doctor’s mental scrutiny, and deceiving the dull eyes of those riders.”
“Oh!” Trenton rubbed his chin, casting a sidelong glance at Bryant. “It’s a very clever tool. I told the doctor I didn’t carry a weapon, which was actually the truth.” He separated the lining of his thick leather belt and r
etrieved a slender silver object. “Behold a laser! This tool emits a beam of light that cuts through stone. I’ll use it to build my mountain retreat.”
Bryant scrutinized the tool. “That little thing? It looks harmless enough. You swear to use it only as a tool?”
Assuming a solemn expression, Trenton nodded. “A single man can’t hollow out tunnels. I can’t live in the castle forever, hate living in spaces filled with too many people. This laser is safe in my hands, believe me.”
“How can I accept telepathy and turn a sour eye on a man’s tool?” Bryant knew that sharing Trenton’s secret forged a valuable bond. Someday he may need Trenton’s unusual skills, perhaps even an outlawed tool, to protect Donovan. His duty remained with his king, not to upholding rules written by men long dead. “I’ll keep your secret, unless you give me reason to doubt your word.”
“I swear I’ll never employ the laser as a weapon…unless you personally clear its use.” Trenton’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Good enough.” Bryant shifted in his saddle, his hand resting against the sword hilt. “You can’t back a mountain man against a wall without losing part of your body. I feel like you’ve just taken my right hand.”
“Let me replace it with mine.” Trenton offered to shake Bryant’s hand. “It’s yours whenever you need it.” Bryant gripped Trenton’s hand, feeling compelled to trust the man. He didn’t understand exactly why.
“I’m witness to that pledge, Trenton,” Dr. Alexander added.
Trenton rolled his eyes. “Never could sneak anything past you, Doc.”
“You’ll keep trying. Your little fabrication might seem less humorous if Jarrack got his hands on that laser.”
“Those lack-wit riders couldn’t deliver it from the grave!” Trenton sneered. “One move to examine my belt pouch and there wouldn’t be enough left to bury.”
Bryant felt suddenly queasy. “That little thing is so powerful?”
Trenton wiggled his eyebrow, grinning. “Nothing left but ashes.”
“Good thing the laser’s only a tool!” Bryant imitated Trenton’s grin. Dr. Alexander laughed, surprising both men.
“You two were meant for each other. I hope Donovan can handle the two of you.”
“Donovan’s clever enough to handle us and more if need be,” Trenton said.
“More! Heaven help us!” Alex groaned.
Bryant changed the subject. “Have you picked the mountain you’ll carve into a home?”
“Indeed. It contains a natural network of splendid caves,” Trenton said, his tone wistful. “I just need to convince Maggie to leave the castle.”
Alex said, “Carve out a cozy home and Maggie will go, even if I must write a special prescription to guarantee it.”
“A prescription might be needed to tear her away.” Trenton cocked his head in a skeptical attitude. “Maggie loves cooking for Krystal and Donovan.”
“Believe me, that little lady is miserable without you. She torments us day and night with her cute little stories about your antics. When Krystal finally bears a child, Maggie will be free to leave. She stays now to support Krystal during her ordeal.”
“Aye, Krystal needs Maggie and Chella more than ever,” Trenton agreed.
Alex patted the medical bag. “With the information in this bag, I’ve gathered the missing pieces to solve the puzzle.”
Bryant hoped the doctor could find a cure for Krystal’s affliction. Rumors spread like wildfire about the queen’s infertility. Donovan didn’t need more problems with Lords forming opposition groups to thwart the king’s new programs. When asked to put Krystal aside, Donovan threatened abdication, but a king needed heirs. He’d get little support in a fight to keep a barren woman as queen.
“Believe me,” Dr. Alexander said, interrupting Bryant’s thoughts. “I’ve got a solution to the problem.”
Bryant’s jaw clenched, suddenly sure the doctor could read his every thought.
******
In the royal tower Krystal gazed out the window. Shadows grew long as the red moon joined its bright sister in the sky. She loved the mystical atmosphere created by the red glow of the farmer’s moon. To Krystal it was the lover’s moon. Legend held that during the half-year the red moon filled the sky, crops grew faster and women became fertile. By bathing myself nightly in the eerie light, could I become pregnant? What harm came from trying?
She prayed Alexander’s trip to the spaceport provided answers. Her latest miscarriage weighed heavily on her mind. As an empath, Krystal felt the tiny fetus struggling for life within her body. The loss hit her hard. Will I experience such bereavement again?
Donovan snored softly. She gazed lovingly at his face, bathed in the red glow of the moon and a tear trickled down her cheek. The council pressured him to take another woman as his wife. How did queens throughout history manage to live under such a strain? She yearned for a child. Donovan did not blame her but the Lords and Ladies at court disapproved. How could I bear to leave him?
As Donovan shifted uncomfortably, Krystal realized her troubled thoughts disturbed him. She forced herself to fill her thoughts with the peaceful scene outside. Absent-mindedly fingering her amulet, she enjoyed the warmth of the stone’s power. Chill from the marble floor crept up her bare feet and she shivered. Alex would be livid if she caught a cold so soon after the miscarriage. She reached for her robe, visualizing his stern face, and smiled. Surely Alex would find a way to help her have a child!
17 ~ Heirs for the Throne
Dr. Alexander was true to his word, Trenton thought. Having finished his mountain retreat this year, the doctor convinced Maggie to leave Krystal during the early months of pregnancy. Inside their home she added personal touches to Trenton’s work. By adding color and texture, she transformed the cold, hard rock of the cave into a real home. Since Maggie left to help Krystal with childbirth, the place echoed with emptiness.
Trenton used his time to travel the countryside, spreading Donovan’s ideas about self-government and listening to rumors about armies building along the border. After three days on the trail, Trenton yearned for a hot bath. By clever manipulation of rock channels, he surprised Maggie with running water and a real bathtub heated by a thermal spring. The thought of soaking in a steaming tub of water sounded like heaven.
Sparks whinnied and pulled against the reins, scenting a whiff of home. Trenton patted the horse’s neck and dismounted. He knew it was important to follow a careful routine when approaching the tunnel entrance.
Sparks knew the ritual. She patiently waited as Trenton examined the ground and checked twigs set out to betray a breach of security. Satisfied, he opened the entrance, led Sparks into the cavern, and whisked a broom meticulously over their footprints. Closing the door filled with fake branches, Trenton dumped a supply of fresh hay and sweet oats into a trough. Sparks plunged her nose into the food, swishing her tail at an irritating gnat as she munched happily.
After his long hard ride, the cave felt cool, damp, and empty. He avoided thinking of Maggie. He stoked the fire and eased his aching body into a chair that creaked under his weight. The chair oozed sap. He sighed, knowing he needed to cure the wood longer before carving Maggie’s chair.
He wiped the sticky sap from his elbow and laughed. “What kind of mountain man can’t even make a proper chair?” His voice echoed through the empty cave. “I need more time to work on this place before Maggie comes back.”
Progress on the house went slow, working between missions, but he didn’t really object. He enjoyed subtly spreading Donovan’s ideas and dodging ruffians hired by Lords to scare him off. He used wits and skill to stay alive. Still, he missed Maggie. She laughed when he spun outlandish tales—slightly embellished to appeal to her humor—and lavishly praised his courage. It felt lonely without her.
Easing into the full tub, he soaked layers of trail dust from his skin. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, considered shaving, and rejected the idea. Sporting a bushy face might be a good disguise. Who
would object? Sparks didn’t care if he looked like a goat or smelled like one for that matter.
Sliding down until only his nose and eyes remained above water, he drifted lazily in thought. How long before Krystal has her baby? Will Maggie be eager to leave with a new baby in the castle? She’ll mope around looking moon-eyed for at least a month when she does come home. Drat babies! Plenty of peasant women wish they could avoid the pain of childbirth. Why does Maggie miss having a child so much? Damn the Institute for taking the choice away!
He remembered Maggie’s soulful eyes when Krystal became pregnant. Her tears expressed happiness for Krystal mingled with sorrow for herself. Maggie begged the doctor to help her get pregnant. Alex shook his head sadly.
Trenton gazed at the sparse cavern. He could be happy with a chair, a tub, and a good bed, but Maggie needed more. He said, “I’ve got to make it seem more like home. Maybe I could get her a pet, a wolf cub, or a squirrel-cat. I’ll give anything a try!”
Nothing will replace a baby once she holds one in her arms. It will be impossible to pry her away and there’s always another village to visit. Maybe Maggie should stay to help with the baby. She loves Krystal and I can visit her often.
“That’s it, I’ll tell her to stay at the castle.” As his voice echoed in the empty room, he felt a surge of loneliness. His dream of a mountain home was not worth living alone. “I’ll find a baby to adopt, an orphan needing a mother’s love and attention. Then she’ll be content living here.”
He had plenty of time to search for a child and he knew it was the right course of action. Trenton scrubbed his feet with a stiff brush, whistling a bawdy tune and smiled. He remembered Maggie blushing and hitting him with a wooden spoon the last time he sang that tune. Grinning, he bellowed the song aloud. “There was a young woman from Livery Pass…”