Valandra: The Winds of Time Cycle (Book 1)

by Tristan Vick

  Having worn out our welcome, Lisette slides off the end of the bed and gathers our things together. She hands me my clothes and we dress with haste. Neither of us speak of what has just transpired, as it’s all rather awkward.

  Leaning in, I whisper, “Sometimes I think I’d like to shove that smug face of his right through the wall.”

  Lisette looks at the Gaul again and bites her bottom lip. “I wouldn’t mind shoving that smug face of his right between my legs,” she says with a heated sigh.

  “You’re terrible!” I say, lightly hitting her in the arm. We both laugh and then finish dressing.

  The Gaul walks over to a wooden chair and grabs his jacket, which is draped over it. He throws on his jacket then fetches a satchel from a hook on the wall and slings it over his shoulder.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” I ask him.

  He smiles at me and says, “I think you forget, chérie, the Royal Guard works for Lord Dathrium now. They won’t quit until they have either caught you or run you out of town.”

  “You’re not actually thinking of accompanying us, are you?”

  “Look, chérie,” he says firmly, “I’m all paid up. The way I figure it, I still owe you three days of my time. So I’m coming with you and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

  “Yay,” Lisette squeaks, nudging me with her elbow. All I can do is roll my eyes again.

  On the bed, the crimson-clad coquette looks dejected. “Leif, sweetie,” she says. “Aren’t you going to come back to bed?”

  “I’m sorry, darling,” he replies. “But these two lovely ladies are in desperate need of my assistance.”

  “But, Leif,” the buxom beauty on the bed whimpers, squirming on the bedspread. “I’m in desperate need of your help too. I have a terrible itch I need you to help me scratch.” She walks her two fingers down her hill of her over-sized breasts, across the valley of her impossibly flat stomach and, finally, down to the small triangular area where her thighs pinch tightly together. “Right here.”

  “Yes, yes,” Leif says in a bothered tone. He picks up the sheet I let fall to the ground and tosses it onto the bed and, consequently, onto the woman’s head. Placing his hands at the small of our backs, he ushers Lisette and I toward the door.

  Leif looks over his shoulder one last time as the woman hastily pulls off the sheet and sits up on the bed. She gripes, “What about my money?”

  “Put it on my tab,” he says to her in his debonair fashion. Then, pushing us out into the hall, he grabs the door handle and, in one fluid motion, backs out of the room with a bow and pulls the door shut after him.

  From inside the room we hear an angry voice shout, “I hate you, Leif Ericson!”

  Leif doesn’t seem to be at all bothered by it though. He informs us, “I have a coach and a two-horse team waiting for us out back.”

  “How rich are you?” Lisette asks rather rudely.

  I shoot Lisette a sharp look to let her know it was an inappropriate.

  “Maybe I’ll take you to my villa someday,” he tells her. He shoots her a playful wink. “But for now, the important thing is to get you to safety. Dathrium’s guards won’t give up their hunt so easily, and the safest place for you is away from here.”

  “Agreed,” I say. Lisette hands me my sword and I tie it to my waist.

  “This way,” Leif says, as he guides us down the corridor and out the back of the brothel. We come to a balcony overlooking the city of Valandra Igthium. The sprawling valley is lit up with oil lamps and it looks as though it’s spackled with the glow of fireflies. Leif points across the valley at the palace. “There,” he says.

  “The palace?” I ask, puzzled. It looks a thousand miles away.

  “It would be the last place they’d expect us to go. Besides, didn’t you say you friend Bethriel was there?”

  “Yes,” I say. Goddess, I’d almost forgotten about Bethriel. “We have to find Bethriel.”

  “Who’s Bethriel?” Lisette asks.

  “She’s our contact. After locating you I was supposed to meet with her and receive some intel for Queen Sabine. But I sort of got caught up rescuing you.”

  “That settles it then,” Lisette chirps. “We go to the palace and find Bethriel.”

  I nod in agreement, and step into Leif’s stagecoach. He climbs atop the coach and takes the reins in his hands.

  I lean out the side of the coach and say, “Just one thing,” then put my fingers to my mouth. I whistle shrilly and it causes both Lisette and Leif to cringe from the piercing volume.

  “What the hell was that for?” Leif asks in confusion, his finger wriggling in his ear as he tries to massage out the ringing.

  “Just wait for it,” I say.

  Lisette and Leif sit quietly, waiting just as I asked.

  “What are we waiting for?” Lisette asks.

  “Shhh,” I hush, pressing my finger to my lips. “Listen.”

  “I don’t hear anything…” Leif begins, but his words suddenly trail off. “No, wait…I think I can hear something. It sounds like…”

  Suddenly we all hear it. The sound of horseshoes clopping along copestone streets. Within a moment, Merrium appears from around the corner and I reach my arm out of the carriage. She trots up to us and nuzzles my hand. “Good girl,” I say to her.

  “Did anyone see you ride in on her?” Leif asks.

  “No,” I tell him.

  Leif continually surprises me. He seems to know a lot more than I initially gave him credit for. At the same time, however, I can’t help but grow more suspicious of him. He was less threatening when he was a dumb, chauvinistic Gaul. As it turns out, though, he’s a nobleman’s son, rich, and knows how to evade the Royal Guard. Makes me suspect there is more to Leif Ericson than meets the eye.

  “Good,” he replies. And with that he yells, “Hee’yah!” The horses all whinny and sputter and then, finally, their hooves find purchase and we take off down the narrow streets of Igthia and make our way toward the palace.

  13

  The night air is hot and humid, and I know it’s going to be a long ride to the palace district of Valandra Royal, so I try to make myself comfortable.

  Settling into my seat, I look over at Lisette to see how she’s managing. She looks up at me with her soulful eyes and smiles exuberantly. I smile back and then, with my hand on hers, I say, “Try to get some sleep. If you can.”

  When I try to remove my hand she latches onto it even tighter. I can tell by the twinkle in her eyes that she is full of excitement and energy. The excitement of a teenager going on a grand adventure for the first time.

  All the same, I can’t help but worry for her. She is, after all, my responsibility. And I’ve never had to watch over anyone other than myself before. It’s all a little overwhelming, to say the least.

  “But I’m too excited to fall asleep,” she protests.

  “Still,” I tell her, “you must try to catch your beauty sleep. You’ll need it if you are to woo prince charming over there.” I nod toward Leif Ericson, who is driving the carriage, and Lisette looks at me with an astonished look. She wasn’t expecting me to tease her about him. But I can tell she likes him.

  Nudging me with her shoulder, she laughs playfully and whispers, “You, Mistress Arianna, are downright evil!” Lisette takes my arm in hers and snuggles up next to me. She nestles in like a kitten nuzzling its mother for warmth, and I put my arm around her. Resting her head on my shoulder, Lisette adds in a sleepy voice, “Thanks for saving me.”

  After a few moments of rocking gently side to side in the carriage she dozes off and, soon enough, I too feel sleep calling to me. Yet for the longest time I fend off sleep, fighting it until it seems I can no longer hold my eyelids open. Then, finally, amid the sound of horses’ hooves clapping along the main thoroughfare that leads to the palace, I drift off to sleep and join Lisette in a peaceful slumber.

  After what seems forever, but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, I hear Leif ca
ll out to me from beyond the veil of my dreamless sleep.

  Stirring awake, my eyes crack open and I hear him call my name again. This time his voice sounds much more urgent than before. “Arianna,” he says loudly enough to ensure that I wake up.

  I force myself awake and sit up. Sweat saturates my clothes and perspiration upon my brow. The air feels extremely warm for this time of night. Too warm. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and ask, “What is it?”

  “Arianna!” he shouts, when, without warning, the coach abruptly lurches to a halt.

  As if by instinct, I throw my arm out to catch Lisette, who is rudely roused from her sleep. Looking around I can hardly believe my eyes. My jaw falls slack and I stumble out of the coach.

  Lisette finally sits up and looks out of the carriage at the flames lapping at the walls of the buildings before us. The city is aglow with the burning buildings which block our path. “By the Goddess!” she exclaims.

  Looking around me, I can hardly believe the startling scene unfolding before my very eyes. People are fleeing, running in every direction. Directly behind them, the lovely pink and tan stucco houses in the valley are all aflame, and sinister dark smoke engulfs a whole section of the city. The dark plumes of smoke rise high into the sky, twisting and turning like giant black serpents.

  If that weren’t bad enough, there are mothers screaming and babies wailing in the night. Amid the roar of the fire, we can still make out moans of suffering and, to all our astonishment, a goat runts by with a bag of straw strapped to its back. The bag, and the straw, is on fire.

  “What in blazes is going on?” I ask.

  Leif climbs down and grabs a man wandering aimlessly in the streets. He looks as though he’s in distress. His face is blackened with ash and it looks as though he barely escaped with his life. “Hey, friend, what’s happened here?” Leif asks the man.

  “Lord Dathrium,” he says in a voice which sounds like gravel. “He’s toppled the sacred obelisk at the center of Valandra and has burned the temple of the monks!”

  Leif fetches his leather canteen and hands it to the man. “You look parched. Here, drink,” he says. The man gladly takes it and drinks heartily.

  “What’d he say?” Lisette asks.

  “It’s Dathrium,” Leif says hastily. His voice suddenly sounds cold and hard.

  There’s a loud boom and a hot wind blows a flurry of sparks and white-hot ash in our direction. I shield my eyes, as do my travel companions. The horses whinny and snort in discomfort and I’m afraid if they startle too much they’ll take off. Luckily, Leif talks to them in a calm voice. He tells them it will all be all right.

  When the firestorm abates, I raise my gaze to find one of the building walls has fallen into the road directly before us. The main road is blocked and for several blocks all I can see are flames.

  “Great!” Leif shouts out in frustration. “Now we have to find a way around this bloody mess.”

  “There they are!” a man’s voice cries out from behind us.

  We all turn around in time to see the two prison guards along with a full contingent of the Royal Guard in tow march into the square directly behind us. There’s at least half a dozen men in all, not including the guards, who are more than pleased with themselves that they managed to find us.

  “That’s them!” snarls the guard I kicked in the face from earlier.

  “I think we’re in trouble,” Lisette says. I can sense the fear in her voice even though she’s putting on her bravest face.

  Unfastening my dagger from my back, I hand it to Lisette. She gives me a confused look.

  “Wait here,” I tell them. Everyone is stressed. Since I got us all into this mess it only makes sense that I’m the one to get us out of it too.

  I step forward and put myself between the coach and the guards, making sure to keep a safe distance between both.

  Slowly, I place my hand on the pommel of my sword and take in a deep breath. As the hot wind whips my hair into a flurry, I raise my eyes and lock onto the Royal Guard with a steady gaze.

  “So, are we going to do this, or are you all going to stand around all day looking like a bunch of inbred dolts?”

  14

  Arming themselves, the squad of royal guards glower at me with contempt and prepare for battle. Like most men rife with insecurities, they wear their feelings on their sleeves and, with sour faces, make a grand show at how much being insulted by a girl infuriates them. And it is this deficiency of their primitive breed which is a stark reminder as to why I continually find myself preferring the company of women instead of men.

  Predictably, it takes very little to prod them, inflame their anger, and get them to lose control of their senses. It’s all too easy and I almost feel bad for them and their simple minds.

  “I’ll give you one chance to walk away,” I say.

  Leif and Lisette watch from a safe distance away. Leif tries to keep the horses calm and Lisette grips tight to the dagger I left her.

  “You, girl!” the first guard shouts angrily, waving his blade at me. “I owe you a kick to your pretty little mouth.” Thrusting out his hips he points at his crotch and adds, “Preferably after you finish polishing me nob!”

  The other guards snicker at his lewd remark. Like I said, primitive. Predictable.

  Instead of dignifying his bellyaching with a response, though, I merely draw out my sword. The blue Moon Blade of Sabolin almost seems to glow like the moon on a cloudless night. As the surrounding flames creep closer and closer, I raise the sword high then bring it down like an archer aiming an arrow. I point it right at the foul-mouthed guard and challenge him to make the first move.

  “Fine,” he grumbles, “have it your way!”

  Gripping his sword in both hands he attempts to intimidate me with a fierce roar. Predictably, he lumbers toward me. He takes a clumsy swipe at me with his broadsword. He swings wide. His momentum spins him around only to end with his sword digging into the ground.

  “I didn’t know it was amateur day,” I say, circling around. As expected, this sparks his ire. He lunges at me again. Anticipating his movements, I step to the side and easily evade his impetuous attack.

  He overshoots my position. With the flat part of my blade, I swat him on his ass, embarrassing him in front of his men.

  The other guards laugh out loud which adds insult to injury. “I’ll have your head for that!” he growls, his face glowing red with rage-induced embarrassment. “Do you hear me wench? I’ll cut your bleedin’ head off and feed your pretty face to the dogs.”

  I let out an annoyed sigh. With him at my back, I keep my gaze fixed on the other guards to let them know I haven’t forgotten about them in case they decide to try to ambush me from behind.

  Circling around me, the guard wipes some soot from his nose and then spits at the ground. I spit in response to his lewd gesture to let him know that I can dish out the insults just as well as he can.

  “After I kill you,” the guard says, “I’m going to have at your little friend there.” He points his sword at Lisette. Grabbing his crotch, he sneers, “I’m going to take your friend’s pretty little mouth and fill it full of—guffah!”

  I don’t let him finish the sentence.

  Pulling back my fist, I wait for his head to snap back into place before I deal him another swift punch to his filthy mouth.

  “The only thing you’ll be filling your mouth with,” I tell him, “is broken teeth and the taste of your own blood.”

  I hit him again, cracking his front teeth, but when I wind back for the third punch he wises up and rams into me with his shoulder.

  I stagger backward several steps but manage to kick my left foot out and skid to a halt on the dirt road.

  With is sword raised high he bull rushes me. His eyes are wide, and his grin is bloody. “Gragh!” he growls, swiping at me furiously with ham-fisted swings.

  Our swords clang and spark as I deflect his wild attacks. Growing frustrated by his inability to land a single b
low, he pulls back his bloodied gums, bares his teeth at me, then spits a blot of blood onto the ground.

  We stare each other down, the heat and the flames growing in intensity behind us. I widen my stance and reposition my blade. Any moment now he’ll lunge forward in a desperate attack and I’ll cut him down. But before I get the chance, out of the blue, a white Khukhri dagger flies through the air and lodges itself in the guard’s back.

  My opponent falls face-first into the dirt. Standing behind his felled body is Leif Ericson, looking proud of himself as usual.

  I shoot Leif a cross look and he looks back at me and shrugs. “I was getting bored,” he informs me, tearing out his knife and cleaning off the blade on the back of the guard’s tunic.

  What began as a crackling fire is now roaring behind us. The orange and yellow flames are spreading to more houses and I can see several new rooftops on fire. Even though it’s the middle of night, the light from the fire has lit up the street as though it were midday.

  When I turn back around to face the guards I notice their brows all glisten with perspiration from the heat of the nearby flames. Of course, when I turn to confront them they panic and draw out their swords.

  Angry blades lash at me from all sides. Some come close, but never meet their target. After all, I’ve been trained by the best of the best. By Master Kel Oren of Vaylandr, the last master swordsman who ever reached the tenth tier of the sacred art of the soul blade. Even as the Royal Guard’s bloodthirsty blades bare down upon me, I am able to deflect their attacks as easily as I would a child’s.

  Sparks flint off our tangle of clashing swords and then quickly fade away. As the men take turns lashing at me, black ash rains down all around us from the nearby blaze, which is bearing down upon us at a startling rate. The flames reach out, like hungry talons, as the fire crawls along the city walls.

  The evening breeze feels hot on my glistening skin, like the wind on a midsummer’s day, and the intense heat of the raging fire washes over us. I can feel myself sweating through my leather armor, and can only imagine the terrible heat the Royal Guard must feel beneath all that heavy steel and chainmail.