Disclaimer: Sailor Moon does not belong to me. It belongs to Naoko
Takeuchi and a great many wonderful people who, if they were so
inclined, could make things very unpleasant for me. (However, they
are all MUCH too generous and benevolent to do any such thing.) This
is a work of fiction and while the original idea does not belong to
me, this story does. Remember that, because if you don't, I'm
sending the Senshi after you . . . .
Castles and Kingdoms
by Fushigi Kismet
~A Twist of Fate~
"SERENITY!" Raslym yelled again, running after the white phantom
that was her princess. She heard the sound of the soldiers behind
her and sped up. Unfortunately, her foot caught on a bit of
undergrowth and she tripped and fell . . .
Only to be caught and hefted up in two strong arms.
"Oh, by the gods!" Raslym said, her eyes wide as she saw the
bloody and battle-hardened figure before her.
Nephrayn kept up his pursuit of the mercenaries but soon found
that he was falling behind. Sheathing his sword, he leapt atop a
wall and ran, surefooted, towards the castle. The Mrrukians gave him
not a glance as he ran past them. He thanked the Goddess of Luck for
being with him that night . . . The nighttime clouds had covered the
moon so he cast no shadow.
Once he arrived at the castle far ahead of the mercenaries who
were impeded in speed by their numbers, he noted another four pouring
out of the building heading towards the woods. "Dammit! Too late!"
He thought briefly of Zoyzer who had sacrificed himself so that
Nephrayn could save the others and cursed under his breath. He leapt
atop the roof and made his way to a window. Looking in, he saw the
guests surrounded by another contingent of the mercenaries. He also
noted the bloody fallen bodies of the king and queen and several more
unconscious forms. A red-haired man seemed to be yelling something
and his eyes narrowed as he saw that he was motioning with his sword
at Immara who was slowly getting to her feet. There was a darkening
bruise on her face and tears in her green eyes.
All right, that's it! he thought, angrily. He flipped back the
window and jumped inside.
Immara blinked as she slowly returned to consciousness. Her face
hurt where the man had struck her across the cheek. Battling the
tears that sprang to her eyes as she saw the unconscious bodies of
her cousin and the others and the steadily growing pools of blood
around the king and queen, she tried to get to her feet.
But a sword thrust in front of her stayed her motion.
The red-haired man waved it angrily. "Stay where you are!"
Immara held herself perfectly still.
"See this?!" the man demanded of the other frightened guests of
the ball.
They made no motion, their eyes growing wide. Immara noticed that
Raslym and Serenity were not among them. What happened whilst I
was unconscious? she wondered. Her eyes lit upon the bloody bodies
in the middle of the room again and she felt like she was about to be
sick.
The man turned back to Immara. "Rest assured, your princess won't
escape!"
Serenity has escaped?
"We'll bring her back and I'll kill her myself." He looked at her
and his eyes narrowed to red slits. "Maybe I should start with you?!
An example of what happens to those who defy me?"
He turned to the rest of the assembly again. "What do you think?"
His mercenaries snickered and his smile widened. He waved his
sword at her. "Up, you!"
Immara slowly began getting to her feet.
It was then that Nephrayn leapt down from one of the windows and
all hell broke loose.
Jadyrn's blue eyes looked back at her as he set her on her feet.
"Quiet, Lady." He held her close to him, his hand over a mouth, his
back pressed to the trunk of a tree. The four mercenaries stormed
by, yelling and making enough noise to make the dead. Raslym was
sure that Jadyrn could hear the frantic beating of her heart. In
fact, she was certain that the *mercenaries* could hear her heart.
However, minutes later when Jadyrn was sure that they were safe,
he let her go. She moved away and glared at him. "I can take care
of myself!"
"I'm sure thou canst, Lady," he said mildly, "but with the amount
of noise thou wast making . . . thou wouldst be hard put to carry
through."
Raslym's anger ebbed and she looked away. "I . . . apologize. My
thanks to thee for catching me."
He studied her a moment longer before looking away. "I take it I
am too late?"
She nodded. "The King and Queen are dead. I wast following
Serenity . . . as are those mercenaries."
"The others? Are they in danger?"
"I knowst not," she said in sudden dismay. "I left them back
there . . . Oh, Goddess! Immara's back there! And Harmony, Odele,
Simyra . . . they were unconscious . . ."
"How many guards?" he demanded.
"Fifty," she said.
He winced. "We are not enough to make a difference."
She nodded slowly, reluctantly.
"Come," he said, "we must find my prince . . . and thy princess."
Raslym nodded and hiking up her skirts, made her way into the
woods. Jadyrn followed with a bemused expression on his face.
Two mercenaries lifted Zoyzer's body up flung him next to a pile
of other corpses of people they had caught and killed while fleeing
in the first few minutes of resistance. The only difference was . .
. Zoyzer wasn't dead.
"Goddess," Marayr whispered from her hiding place behind one of
the large ornamental bushes planted in the courtyard.
"What d'we do w'im?" one of the Mrrukians asked the other. "He
ain't dead."
"Ornery thing. He's close enough t'dead. Leave him. He'll die
soon enough. Ain't gonna be walkin' any time soon, anyways."
The first one grunted in reply and they left the courtyard.
Marayr crept forward, pushing back the bile that rose in her
throat as she saw all of the mutilated bodies. She knelt down next
to him, cradling his head onto her lap, her hand feeling his throat
for a pulse. There it was . . . faint, but there. He was alive.
She stared at him. There was a large gash on his forehead which
bled profusely and several smaller cuts which were caked with his
dried blood. His armour had been dented and pierced in several
areas. His blood was everywhere.
"Goddess," she murmured, stroking his hair matted with blood away
from the cut on his forehead.
He coughed and his eyes fluttered open. "Mar . . . ayr?"
She nodded. "Yes," she said quickly as she realized that she was
out of his line of sight. "'Tis me."
"H . . . ow didst thou-?"
"'Tis a long story," she whispered. "Canst thou walk?"
He made an effort to rise then shook his head. Then, as though
that little motion had been too much for him he said, "Get out of
here, Marayr. I'm for the dogs."
"Thou knowst so little," she said, frowning. "Thou art coming
with me. Monica, Aros!" she called softly.
The two appeared in the shadows.
"Can he walk?" Monica asked.
"No."
"Leave him," Aros said impatiently. "We cannot allow ourselves to
be slowed down . . ."
"I wilt not leave without him!" Marayr hissed. "Now, help me move
him!"
They moved forward to assist her.
As Nephrayn leapt down, the red-haired man whirled about to face
him, his senses alerting him to the danger. The other mercenaries
moved forward to attack. As they moved away the guests began a mad
dash to the doors which were still wide open from Serenity and
Raslym's run to safety.
The red-haired man began to issue some commands to his men to
secure the people when Immara hit him in the back of the head with an
ornamental vase she had found in a niche in the wall. She and
Nephrayn exchanged a look before he smiled simply and turned towards
the rest of their attackers.
It was then that the peal of breaking glass made them all look up.
Reinforcements had arrived . . .
"I can't believe that we lost the princess!" Raslym fumed,
storming through the forest, beyond caring about the amount of noise
that she was making or the fact that "she" had been the one to lose
sight of the princess.
"Calm down, Lady," Jadyrn said calmly from where he followed a few
feet behind her. "We'll find her, and my prince. There is nothing
to fear."
"Dost thou ever get upset?" she demanded.
"Of course."
"Thou soundst like a damned Flevner."
"And thou, Lady, shouldst not swear so."
"Quit calling me "Lady." Thou shouldst not."
"Why should I not?" he asked, surprised.
"Because I . . . say so!"
"I shall stop when thou hast a good reason, Lady." He smiled a
little.
Raslym squared her jaw, and looked at him with a great deal of
irritation. "I was wrong. Thou art not a Flevner, thou art a
Crayzen."
He made a great show of bowing. "I am flattered."
She looked back at him and threw her hands up in the air. "I give
up!" She ran right smack into a heavily armored body. A flash of
fear went through her as she saw Jadyrn's eyes widen in apprehension.
Turning slowly about, her tongue feeling like lead in her mouth, she
said, "I don't suppose that thou art Prince Endymion?"
The Mrrukian leered down at her. "No." His heavily armored
comrades snickered.
Raslym turned around to shot an accusing look at Jadyrn, just as
he was seized by two more men. "So much for what thou wast saying."
"About what?"
"Having nothing to fear."
Marayr rested a cool cloth on Zoyzer's forehead as they listened
to the sounds of fighting in the distance. She, Monica, and Zoyzer
were hidden in a small shelter in the woods that had been built years
ago and left in disrepair.
"H . . . How didst thee escape?" Zoyzer asked weakly.
Her blue eyes looked back at him and she smiled briefly. It was
fleeting like the flicker of a flame. "We haven't yet. 'Twas all
Aros, actually."
Monica hmmphed and looked away, eyes unseeing.
"Aros?"
Marayr nodded. "When thou didst leave . . . I couldst not but
feel that something was amiss. I made as though to follow thee but
Aros stayed me . . ."
And she wove her tale for him . . .
Some few of Endymion's retinue who had managed to escape burst
through the skylights located in the center of the roof of the
ballroom. They numbered twelve in all but as they burst through,
several of the men who had been engaged in dancing at the time of the
invasion and whose weapons had been confiscated took advantage of the
chaos to wrestle with their guards and relieve them of their weapons
in turn. Armed, with their guards more or less disabled, they leapt
into the fray.
Aros appeared soon after the rest of the soldiers and hustled the
remaining non-combatants, mostly ladies, through the doors that were
no longer being guarded, into the relative safety of the woods.
Several servants picked up the bodies of Harmony, Odele, and Simyra,
and took them along. Immara paused to glance that way, but then
returned her focus to the battle, striking hard with a staff she had
managed to pick up, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Nephrayn
fought back to back with her.
Soon, though, it was obvious that the mercenaries' numbers were
too great and they made a break for it, running after the last of the
fleeing crowd. As they ran into the night, Immara could not help but
notice that Nephrayn was holding her hand quite tightly . . . as
though afraid to lose her. In the darkness, despite the terror she
felt from the night's events, her cheeks burned.
They were roughly thrown, bound around the hands and feet but not
gagged, into the Mrrukian camp. Raslym had been complaining the
whole way. "And another thing, who the hell dost thou think that
thou art?! I am a Lady of the Queen's court!"
"Ah, so now thee admits it," Jadyrn said, dryly.
"Do shut up."
Kunzyn sighed while Artana rolled her eyes. "They got thee, too,
huh?" Artana commented.
"Damn right!"
"Since when didst thou develop such a dirty mouth, Raslym?" Artana
asked with a brief spark of curiosity. "If the Queen had ever heard
you, she would have had the servants wash thy mouth out with soap."
"This is NOT the time to be genteel, Artana! The King and Queen
are dead, the castle is burning, the kingdom is being overrun by
those maggots from Estvia, and the princess is STILL missing!"
"Thank the goddess for that."
"What meanst thou?"
"Hath it ever occurred to thee that the princess is better off
wherever she is now than with us?"
Raslym was silent for a moment as the situation that they were in
sunk in. When she finally got her voice back, she said very softly,
her eyes wide and shining with newfound fear, "What . . . what wilt
they do to us?"
Artana shut her eyes and turned her head away. "If we're lucky,
they'll just sell us as slaves overseas . . . if we're not . . ." she
let the statement trail away unsaid.
Raslym bit back a sob and stared at the flickering embers of the
fire. "Oh, Goddess . . ."
Jadyrn was silent as he stared at her. She had been so brash but
an instant before and now the facade was gone, burnt away by the
harshness of the truth. Now, she looked so innocent and vulnerable,
and so very, very young . . . He pushed down the emotions rushing to
the surface. No, I will have none of those. Only the protective
feeling he felt towards her, did he allow to remain.
He spoke up, his voice falling clearly in the stillness of the
evening, with nothing but the crackle of the fire and the far off
sound of clanging armor to mute the words that he spoke with a quiet
conviction and a barely hidden undercurrent of strength. "Lady . .
."
Raslym turned to look at him, tears springing to her eyes, the
firelight glinting on her wild dark hair.
"Lady . . . I will not let them lay a hand on you. If they
should harm you in any way, I swear that I will kill them all, every
man of them."
Looking at him, she believed him, and she said the only thing that
she could. "Thank thee, and don't call me Lady."
Endymion stomped about, blowing on his hands to keep warm. He
stopped before Serenity. "My apologies, but I fear that starting a
fire would attract more attention than we need right now."
"Of course." She looked up at him, tear tracks marring cheeks
shining silver in the faint light of the moon and the stars.
Endymion stared at her, longing to go to her and hold her as he
had before. But this was not the time. She had awoken in his arms
and had immediately pushed him away. He sat down on a fallen log
across from her, seated in such a way that she could only see his
profile.
Serenity sat with her back against a tree stump, her legs drawn up
against her chest with her arms wrapped around them and her chin
resting atop her knees. She shivered a little from the cold.
Glancing at her fingers, she noticed a faint blue tinge.
Pretending not to be watching her from the corner of his eye,
Endymion unhooked his cloak and tossed it to her. She caught it and
shot him a grateful look, wrapping it about herself. It was silent
but for the sounds of nocturnal creatures as they moved about and
stalked their prey.
After an eternity seemed to pass, Serenity spoke. "My thanks to
thee."
"For what?" Endymion asked absently, staring off into the
distance, his eyes narrowed and his ears open for any movement in
their direction.
"For the cloak . . . and the fact that thou'rt here."
He turned his head to look at her. "Where would I be but at thy
side?"
She touched the bracelet self-consciously. "I had forgotten."
He let a smile touch and linger on his lips. "Did I not swear
myself to thee?"
"Yes, with the bracelet thou hast done so."
"Nay, my pledge was made long before the giving of that gift."
The moonlight reflected off of her charm as she slowly began to
speak, "Thou speakst as though we had met ere 'fore . . . but I have
no recollection of such an encounter. Prithee, tell me what it is
that I have forgotten."
"To tell the tale would be to spoil the memory." His eyes flashed
dark blue as he turned away again, looking off into the distance.
She bit her lip, feeling that she had offended him. "I am sorry."
He remained silent.
"I am sorry . . . for not loving thee," she whispered, a sob
catching in her throat. "It seems that thou must suffer my presence
'til such a time as we can part ways."
"Dost thou think so little of thyself, princess? Any parting with
thee would be too soon. As for loving me . . . I am still hopeful
that time wilt be gentle with me and ease the pain of my heart . . .
or else, speed the change of thy heart towards mine."
"Art thou cold?" she asked suddenly.
"Nay. My armor wilt keep me warm. But thou art more than
chilled. Had I any covering to give thee, I would gladly part with
it. As it is, I wilt start a fire soon."
"No," she said sharply. "They must not find us. We wilt travel,
and the movement shall keep my blood flowing."
He turned to face her, taking her hand and rubbing it between his,
blowing on it with his warm breath. She recoiled slightly, but then
repented and allowed him to administer to the other hand as well.
When he had finished she smiled ruefully. "Thy hands art too cold to
do much good, lord prince."
She stood and sat down next to him, leaning against him with a
sigh. He awkwardly draped his arm over her shoulders and held her
gently.
"My parents are dead . . . My kingdom is lost to me. Tell me,
lord prince, where wilt we go?"
"North," he answered immediately. "To my kingdom. To Dalayne.
Thou wilt have sanctuary there until such a time as thy kingdom
returns to thy rule."
"But Estvia's allies lie between here and Dalayne . . . We wilt
meet no one but enemies."
"It is possible to safely pass through their borders. Possible,
but difficult. There is no alternative but to try."
She smiled briefly. "There is no alternative but to succeed."
Their eyes met, hers filled with determination, his with painful
love.
"Aye," he said with difficulty. "We wilt succeed."
The next morning found the four companions at the coast after a
forced march and ride all night. They marched. The mercenaries
rode. They were all exhausted. Artana and Raslym were the closest
to collapse, but the head mercenary of their little group had noticed
that they were lagging and had allowed them a horse for the last half
of the march.
And so . . . they arrived at a seaport.
Jadyrn had discerned early on that the band of Mrrukians that had
taken them captive did not seem to be part of the main invasion force
. . . rather, they seemed to be independent workers, taking what they
could get from the invasion and making their own tidy profit from it.
He didn't suppose that skimming the profits was anything new.
They were delivered to another group of Mrrukians . . . sailors.
In other words . . . slave-traders. Their captors had been paid with
gold and then had departed, no doubt to caught up with the rest of
their army before they were too long missed.
The slave-traders had lined them up along the pier and the
"Captain" was inspecting them in turn. He paused before Artana and
took her face in his hands, sparing a glance for Raslym who stood
resolutely next to her. "Ah, any man'd give his eyeteeth to bed one
of you two lovelies!"
Artana struggled and turned her face, trying both to get as far
away from him as possible and to avoid inhaling his foul breath.
Raslym, who was not so restrained, lashed out with her right foot and
kicked her captor squarely in the stomach when he moved on to inspect
her.
He doubled over and let go of her, but as she turned to run she
was faced with another Mrrukian. "Yes, we'll have fun with this
one," he growled, advancing on her.
"No, thou wilt not!" Jadyrn's voice rang out.
"And what're you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" the Mrrukian
spat.
Jadyrn held his temper and laughed contemptuously. "Don't think
that I don't know what thou planst to do with the four of us. We're
far too valuable for use as thy *own* galley slaves - thou wouldst
fetch a better price selling us to slavers on the mainland . . . say
in Estvia? The women are ladies . . . untouched. Ten times as much
would be due thee now, without any . . . unpleasantness. I can see
that thou art businessmen, and thou knowst just as well as I, how
much more thou wouldst get were the ladies to remain . . . pure."
The Mrrukian paused, then spat again and turned away. "Enough,
worm. Ye're too smart fer yer own good. Nobody touches the wenches.
Chain 'em up! Not the two men t'gether . . . I don't want 'em tryin'
t'make any plans t'escape. Chain the men and the wenches up
t'gether."
"But how'll we know that they ain't gonna do nothing?!" one of the
crew protested.
The head Mrrukian spat again. "Don't ye know *nothing*?! Them's
gennelmun. Won't never harm a lady . . . An' if they *do* . . . I
ain't got no scruples 'bout offing the two a them. Men ain't worth
half so much as two fine wenches. Now, git goin'!"
In the hold the Mrrukians proceeded to chain the four of them up.
Artana to Kunzyn and Raslym to Jadyrn. They were chained to opposite
sides of the hold, the chain firmly attached to a ring embedded in
the floor. When the Mrrukians had left and they were left alone,
Artana began pulling on her chain. "Oh, great," she chatted as she
pulled harder, the muscles in her arms straining. "We have been
captured by pirates and if that was not the worst of it, I am chained
up to *thee*." She made a face.
"Don't sound so happy about it." Kunzyn looked over at her and
before they knew it both of them had burst into slightly hysterical
laughter.
Across the hold, Raslym and Jadyrn eyed each other, she warily, he
with a surface calm that belied his true emotions. "This cannot bode
well," Raslym said, looking away at last.
Jadyrn raised his hand debating whether or not to place it on her
arm . . . but decided against it. Instead, he turned away as well.
"Aye, Lady. But perhaps 'tis a good omen . . . The choice of
pairs?"
She looked over at him, her eyes surprised. That was the last
thing she would have suspected him to say. She wondered at the
words. The choice of pairs?
Monica and Aros.
Artana and Kunzyn.
Raslym and Jadyrn.
Immara and Nephrayn.
Marayr and Zoyzer.
Serenity and Endymion.
The Journey has just begun . . .
To be continued . . .
Um, sorry, I meant to write more about the rest of the pairs but I
had to cut it off! I'll explain exactly what happened to Marayr,
Monica, and Aros next time! And, we'll see how everyone else is
doing. Okay? I'll be in California until the end of August . . . so
no new parts until I'm back! Gomen! Ja ne! I love you all, minna!
Oh, and if you go to my webpage:
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Palace/3649/index.html
you'll find a character guide with background info for "C&K." Ha!
That's *one* way of getting you to visit! Bai bai!
Takeuchi and a great many wonderful people who, if they were so
inclined, could make things very unpleasant for me. (However, they
are all MUCH too generous and benevolent to do any such thing.) This
is a work of fiction and while the original idea does not belong to
me, this story does. Remember that, because if you don't, I'm
sending the Senshi after you . . . .
Castles and Kingdoms
by Fushigi Kismet
~A Twist of Fate~
"SERENITY!" Raslym yelled again, running after the white phantom
that was her princess. She heard the sound of the soldiers behind
her and sped up. Unfortunately, her foot caught on a bit of
undergrowth and she tripped and fell . . .
Only to be caught and hefted up in two strong arms.
"Oh, by the gods!" Raslym said, her eyes wide as she saw the
bloody and battle-hardened figure before her.
Nephrayn kept up his pursuit of the mercenaries but soon found
that he was falling behind. Sheathing his sword, he leapt atop a
wall and ran, surefooted, towards the castle. The Mrrukians gave him
not a glance as he ran past them. He thanked the Goddess of Luck for
being with him that night . . . The nighttime clouds had covered the
moon so he cast no shadow.
Once he arrived at the castle far ahead of the mercenaries who
were impeded in speed by their numbers, he noted another four pouring
out of the building heading towards the woods. "Dammit! Too late!"
He thought briefly of Zoyzer who had sacrificed himself so that
Nephrayn could save the others and cursed under his breath. He leapt
atop the roof and made his way to a window. Looking in, he saw the
guests surrounded by another contingent of the mercenaries. He also
noted the bloody fallen bodies of the king and queen and several more
unconscious forms. A red-haired man seemed to be yelling something
and his eyes narrowed as he saw that he was motioning with his sword
at Immara who was slowly getting to her feet. There was a darkening
bruise on her face and tears in her green eyes.
All right, that's it! he thought, angrily. He flipped back the
window and jumped inside.
Immara blinked as she slowly returned to consciousness. Her face
hurt where the man had struck her across the cheek. Battling the
tears that sprang to her eyes as she saw the unconscious bodies of
her cousin and the others and the steadily growing pools of blood
around the king and queen, she tried to get to her feet.
But a sword thrust in front of her stayed her motion.
The red-haired man waved it angrily. "Stay where you are!"
Immara held herself perfectly still.
"See this?!" the man demanded of the other frightened guests of
the ball.
They made no motion, their eyes growing wide. Immara noticed that
Raslym and Serenity were not among them. What happened whilst I
was unconscious? she wondered. Her eyes lit upon the bloody bodies
in the middle of the room again and she felt like she was about to be
sick.
The man turned back to Immara. "Rest assured, your princess won't
escape!"
Serenity has escaped?
"We'll bring her back and I'll kill her myself." He looked at her
and his eyes narrowed to red slits. "Maybe I should start with you?!
An example of what happens to those who defy me?"
He turned to the rest of the assembly again. "What do you think?"
His mercenaries snickered and his smile widened. He waved his
sword at her. "Up, you!"
Immara slowly began getting to her feet.
It was then that Nephrayn leapt down from one of the windows and
all hell broke loose.
Jadyrn's blue eyes looked back at her as he set her on her feet.
"Quiet, Lady." He held her close to him, his hand over a mouth, his
back pressed to the trunk of a tree. The four mercenaries stormed
by, yelling and making enough noise to make the dead. Raslym was
sure that Jadyrn could hear the frantic beating of her heart. In
fact, she was certain that the *mercenaries* could hear her heart.
However, minutes later when Jadyrn was sure that they were safe,
he let her go. She moved away and glared at him. "I can take care
of myself!"
"I'm sure thou canst, Lady," he said mildly, "but with the amount
of noise thou wast making . . . thou wouldst be hard put to carry
through."
Raslym's anger ebbed and she looked away. "I . . . apologize. My
thanks to thee for catching me."
He studied her a moment longer before looking away. "I take it I
am too late?"
She nodded. "The King and Queen are dead. I wast following
Serenity . . . as are those mercenaries."
"The others? Are they in danger?"
"I knowst not," she said in sudden dismay. "I left them back
there . . . Oh, Goddess! Immara's back there! And Harmony, Odele,
Simyra . . . they were unconscious . . ."
"How many guards?" he demanded.
"Fifty," she said.
He winced. "We are not enough to make a difference."
She nodded slowly, reluctantly.
"Come," he said, "we must find my prince . . . and thy princess."
Raslym nodded and hiking up her skirts, made her way into the
woods. Jadyrn followed with a bemused expression on his face.
Two mercenaries lifted Zoyzer's body up flung him next to a pile
of other corpses of people they had caught and killed while fleeing
in the first few minutes of resistance. The only difference was . .
. Zoyzer wasn't dead.
"Goddess," Marayr whispered from her hiding place behind one of
the large ornamental bushes planted in the courtyard.
"What d'we do w'im?" one of the Mrrukians asked the other. "He
ain't dead."
"Ornery thing. He's close enough t'dead. Leave him. He'll die
soon enough. Ain't gonna be walkin' any time soon, anyways."
The first one grunted in reply and they left the courtyard.
Marayr crept forward, pushing back the bile that rose in her
throat as she saw all of the mutilated bodies. She knelt down next
to him, cradling his head onto her lap, her hand feeling his throat
for a pulse. There it was . . . faint, but there. He was alive.
She stared at him. There was a large gash on his forehead which
bled profusely and several smaller cuts which were caked with his
dried blood. His armour had been dented and pierced in several
areas. His blood was everywhere.
"Goddess," she murmured, stroking his hair matted with blood away
from the cut on his forehead.
He coughed and his eyes fluttered open. "Mar . . . ayr?"
She nodded. "Yes," she said quickly as she realized that she was
out of his line of sight. "'Tis me."
"H . . . ow didst thou-?"
"'Tis a long story," she whispered. "Canst thou walk?"
He made an effort to rise then shook his head. Then, as though
that little motion had been too much for him he said, "Get out of
here, Marayr. I'm for the dogs."
"Thou knowst so little," she said, frowning. "Thou art coming
with me. Monica, Aros!" she called softly.
The two appeared in the shadows.
"Can he walk?" Monica asked.
"No."
"Leave him," Aros said impatiently. "We cannot allow ourselves to
be slowed down . . ."
"I wilt not leave without him!" Marayr hissed. "Now, help me move
him!"
They moved forward to assist her.
As Nephrayn leapt down, the red-haired man whirled about to face
him, his senses alerting him to the danger. The other mercenaries
moved forward to attack. As they moved away the guests began a mad
dash to the doors which were still wide open from Serenity and
Raslym's run to safety.
The red-haired man began to issue some commands to his men to
secure the people when Immara hit him in the back of the head with an
ornamental vase she had found in a niche in the wall. She and
Nephrayn exchanged a look before he smiled simply and turned towards
the rest of their attackers.
It was then that the peal of breaking glass made them all look up.
Reinforcements had arrived . . .
"I can't believe that we lost the princess!" Raslym fumed,
storming through the forest, beyond caring about the amount of noise
that she was making or the fact that "she" had been the one to lose
sight of the princess.
"Calm down, Lady," Jadyrn said calmly from where he followed a few
feet behind her. "We'll find her, and my prince. There is nothing
to fear."
"Dost thou ever get upset?" she demanded.
"Of course."
"Thou soundst like a damned Flevner."
"And thou, Lady, shouldst not swear so."
"Quit calling me "Lady." Thou shouldst not."
"Why should I not?" he asked, surprised.
"Because I . . . say so!"
"I shall stop when thou hast a good reason, Lady." He smiled a
little.
Raslym squared her jaw, and looked at him with a great deal of
irritation. "I was wrong. Thou art not a Flevner, thou art a
Crayzen."
He made a great show of bowing. "I am flattered."
She looked back at him and threw her hands up in the air. "I give
up!" She ran right smack into a heavily armored body. A flash of
fear went through her as she saw Jadyrn's eyes widen in apprehension.
Turning slowly about, her tongue feeling like lead in her mouth, she
said, "I don't suppose that thou art Prince Endymion?"
The Mrrukian leered down at her. "No." His heavily armored
comrades snickered.
Raslym turned around to shot an accusing look at Jadyrn, just as
he was seized by two more men. "So much for what thou wast saying."
"About what?"
"Having nothing to fear."
Marayr rested a cool cloth on Zoyzer's forehead as they listened
to the sounds of fighting in the distance. She, Monica, and Zoyzer
were hidden in a small shelter in the woods that had been built years
ago and left in disrepair.
"H . . . How didst thee escape?" Zoyzer asked weakly.
Her blue eyes looked back at him and she smiled briefly. It was
fleeting like the flicker of a flame. "We haven't yet. 'Twas all
Aros, actually."
Monica hmmphed and looked away, eyes unseeing.
"Aros?"
Marayr nodded. "When thou didst leave . . . I couldst not but
feel that something was amiss. I made as though to follow thee but
Aros stayed me . . ."
And she wove her tale for him . . .
Some few of Endymion's retinue who had managed to escape burst
through the skylights located in the center of the roof of the
ballroom. They numbered twelve in all but as they burst through,
several of the men who had been engaged in dancing at the time of the
invasion and whose weapons had been confiscated took advantage of the
chaos to wrestle with their guards and relieve them of their weapons
in turn. Armed, with their guards more or less disabled, they leapt
into the fray.
Aros appeared soon after the rest of the soldiers and hustled the
remaining non-combatants, mostly ladies, through the doors that were
no longer being guarded, into the relative safety of the woods.
Several servants picked up the bodies of Harmony, Odele, and Simyra,
and took them along. Immara paused to glance that way, but then
returned her focus to the battle, striking hard with a staff she had
managed to pick up, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Nephrayn
fought back to back with her.
Soon, though, it was obvious that the mercenaries' numbers were
too great and they made a break for it, running after the last of the
fleeing crowd. As they ran into the night, Immara could not help but
notice that Nephrayn was holding her hand quite tightly . . . as
though afraid to lose her. In the darkness, despite the terror she
felt from the night's events, her cheeks burned.
They were roughly thrown, bound around the hands and feet but not
gagged, into the Mrrukian camp. Raslym had been complaining the
whole way. "And another thing, who the hell dost thou think that
thou art?! I am a Lady of the Queen's court!"
"Ah, so now thee admits it," Jadyrn said, dryly.
"Do shut up."
Kunzyn sighed while Artana rolled her eyes. "They got thee, too,
huh?" Artana commented.
"Damn right!"
"Since when didst thou develop such a dirty mouth, Raslym?" Artana
asked with a brief spark of curiosity. "If the Queen had ever heard
you, she would have had the servants wash thy mouth out with soap."
"This is NOT the time to be genteel, Artana! The King and Queen
are dead, the castle is burning, the kingdom is being overrun by
those maggots from Estvia, and the princess is STILL missing!"
"Thank the goddess for that."
"What meanst thou?"
"Hath it ever occurred to thee that the princess is better off
wherever she is now than with us?"
Raslym was silent for a moment as the situation that they were in
sunk in. When she finally got her voice back, she said very softly,
her eyes wide and shining with newfound fear, "What . . . what wilt
they do to us?"
Artana shut her eyes and turned her head away. "If we're lucky,
they'll just sell us as slaves overseas . . . if we're not . . ." she
let the statement trail away unsaid.
Raslym bit back a sob and stared at the flickering embers of the
fire. "Oh, Goddess . . ."
Jadyrn was silent as he stared at her. She had been so brash but
an instant before and now the facade was gone, burnt away by the
harshness of the truth. Now, she looked so innocent and vulnerable,
and so very, very young . . . He pushed down the emotions rushing to
the surface. No, I will have none of those. Only the protective
feeling he felt towards her, did he allow to remain.
He spoke up, his voice falling clearly in the stillness of the
evening, with nothing but the crackle of the fire and the far off
sound of clanging armor to mute the words that he spoke with a quiet
conviction and a barely hidden undercurrent of strength. "Lady . .
."
Raslym turned to look at him, tears springing to her eyes, the
firelight glinting on her wild dark hair.
"Lady . . . I will not let them lay a hand on you. If they
should harm you in any way, I swear that I will kill them all, every
man of them."
Looking at him, she believed him, and she said the only thing that
she could. "Thank thee, and don't call me Lady."
Endymion stomped about, blowing on his hands to keep warm. He
stopped before Serenity. "My apologies, but I fear that starting a
fire would attract more attention than we need right now."
"Of course." She looked up at him, tear tracks marring cheeks
shining silver in the faint light of the moon and the stars.
Endymion stared at her, longing to go to her and hold her as he
had before. But this was not the time. She had awoken in his arms
and had immediately pushed him away. He sat down on a fallen log
across from her, seated in such a way that she could only see his
profile.
Serenity sat with her back against a tree stump, her legs drawn up
against her chest with her arms wrapped around them and her chin
resting atop her knees. She shivered a little from the cold.
Glancing at her fingers, she noticed a faint blue tinge.
Pretending not to be watching her from the corner of his eye,
Endymion unhooked his cloak and tossed it to her. She caught it and
shot him a grateful look, wrapping it about herself. It was silent
but for the sounds of nocturnal creatures as they moved about and
stalked their prey.
After an eternity seemed to pass, Serenity spoke. "My thanks to
thee."
"For what?" Endymion asked absently, staring off into the
distance, his eyes narrowed and his ears open for any movement in
their direction.
"For the cloak . . . and the fact that thou'rt here."
He turned his head to look at her. "Where would I be but at thy
side?"
She touched the bracelet self-consciously. "I had forgotten."
He let a smile touch and linger on his lips. "Did I not swear
myself to thee?"
"Yes, with the bracelet thou hast done so."
"Nay, my pledge was made long before the giving of that gift."
The moonlight reflected off of her charm as she slowly began to
speak, "Thou speakst as though we had met ere 'fore . . . but I have
no recollection of such an encounter. Prithee, tell me what it is
that I have forgotten."
"To tell the tale would be to spoil the memory." His eyes flashed
dark blue as he turned away again, looking off into the distance.
She bit her lip, feeling that she had offended him. "I am sorry."
He remained silent.
"I am sorry . . . for not loving thee," she whispered, a sob
catching in her throat. "It seems that thou must suffer my presence
'til such a time as we can part ways."
"Dost thou think so little of thyself, princess? Any parting with
thee would be too soon. As for loving me . . . I am still hopeful
that time wilt be gentle with me and ease the pain of my heart . . .
or else, speed the change of thy heart towards mine."
"Art thou cold?" she asked suddenly.
"Nay. My armor wilt keep me warm. But thou art more than
chilled. Had I any covering to give thee, I would gladly part with
it. As it is, I wilt start a fire soon."
"No," she said sharply. "They must not find us. We wilt travel,
and the movement shall keep my blood flowing."
He turned to face her, taking her hand and rubbing it between his,
blowing on it with his warm breath. She recoiled slightly, but then
repented and allowed him to administer to the other hand as well.
When he had finished she smiled ruefully. "Thy hands art too cold to
do much good, lord prince."
She stood and sat down next to him, leaning against him with a
sigh. He awkwardly draped his arm over her shoulders and held her
gently.
"My parents are dead . . . My kingdom is lost to me. Tell me,
lord prince, where wilt we go?"
"North," he answered immediately. "To my kingdom. To Dalayne.
Thou wilt have sanctuary there until such a time as thy kingdom
returns to thy rule."
"But Estvia's allies lie between here and Dalayne . . . We wilt
meet no one but enemies."
"It is possible to safely pass through their borders. Possible,
but difficult. There is no alternative but to try."
She smiled briefly. "There is no alternative but to succeed."
Their eyes met, hers filled with determination, his with painful
love.
"Aye," he said with difficulty. "We wilt succeed."
The next morning found the four companions at the coast after a
forced march and ride all night. They marched. The mercenaries
rode. They were all exhausted. Artana and Raslym were the closest
to collapse, but the head mercenary of their little group had noticed
that they were lagging and had allowed them a horse for the last half
of the march.
And so . . . they arrived at a seaport.
Jadyrn had discerned early on that the band of Mrrukians that had
taken them captive did not seem to be part of the main invasion force
. . . rather, they seemed to be independent workers, taking what they
could get from the invasion and making their own tidy profit from it.
He didn't suppose that skimming the profits was anything new.
They were delivered to another group of Mrrukians . . . sailors.
In other words . . . slave-traders. Their captors had been paid with
gold and then had departed, no doubt to caught up with the rest of
their army before they were too long missed.
The slave-traders had lined them up along the pier and the
"Captain" was inspecting them in turn. He paused before Artana and
took her face in his hands, sparing a glance for Raslym who stood
resolutely next to her. "Ah, any man'd give his eyeteeth to bed one
of you two lovelies!"
Artana struggled and turned her face, trying both to get as far
away from him as possible and to avoid inhaling his foul breath.
Raslym, who was not so restrained, lashed out with her right foot and
kicked her captor squarely in the stomach when he moved on to inspect
her.
He doubled over and let go of her, but as she turned to run she
was faced with another Mrrukian. "Yes, we'll have fun with this
one," he growled, advancing on her.
"No, thou wilt not!" Jadyrn's voice rang out.
"And what're you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" the Mrrukian
spat.
Jadyrn held his temper and laughed contemptuously. "Don't think
that I don't know what thou planst to do with the four of us. We're
far too valuable for use as thy *own* galley slaves - thou wouldst
fetch a better price selling us to slavers on the mainland . . . say
in Estvia? The women are ladies . . . untouched. Ten times as much
would be due thee now, without any . . . unpleasantness. I can see
that thou art businessmen, and thou knowst just as well as I, how
much more thou wouldst get were the ladies to remain . . . pure."
The Mrrukian paused, then spat again and turned away. "Enough,
worm. Ye're too smart fer yer own good. Nobody touches the wenches.
Chain 'em up! Not the two men t'gether . . . I don't want 'em tryin'
t'make any plans t'escape. Chain the men and the wenches up
t'gether."
"But how'll we know that they ain't gonna do nothing?!" one of the
crew protested.
The head Mrrukian spat again. "Don't ye know *nothing*?! Them's
gennelmun. Won't never harm a lady . . . An' if they *do* . . . I
ain't got no scruples 'bout offing the two a them. Men ain't worth
half so much as two fine wenches. Now, git goin'!"
In the hold the Mrrukians proceeded to chain the four of them up.
Artana to Kunzyn and Raslym to Jadyrn. They were chained to opposite
sides of the hold, the chain firmly attached to a ring embedded in
the floor. When the Mrrukians had left and they were left alone,
Artana began pulling on her chain. "Oh, great," she chatted as she
pulled harder, the muscles in her arms straining. "We have been
captured by pirates and if that was not the worst of it, I am chained
up to *thee*." She made a face.
"Don't sound so happy about it." Kunzyn looked over at her and
before they knew it both of them had burst into slightly hysterical
laughter.
Across the hold, Raslym and Jadyrn eyed each other, she warily, he
with a surface calm that belied his true emotions. "This cannot bode
well," Raslym said, looking away at last.
Jadyrn raised his hand debating whether or not to place it on her
arm . . . but decided against it. Instead, he turned away as well.
"Aye, Lady. But perhaps 'tis a good omen . . . The choice of
pairs?"
She looked over at him, her eyes surprised. That was the last
thing she would have suspected him to say. She wondered at the
words. The choice of pairs?
Monica and Aros.
Artana and Kunzyn.
Raslym and Jadyrn.
Immara and Nephrayn.
Marayr and Zoyzer.
Serenity and Endymion.
The Journey has just begun . . .
To be continued . . .
Um, sorry, I meant to write more about the rest of the pairs but I
had to cut it off! I'll explain exactly what happened to Marayr,
Monica, and Aros next time! And, we'll see how everyone else is
doing. Okay? I'll be in California until the end of August . . . so
no new parts until I'm back! Gomen! Ja ne! I love you all, minna!
Oh, and if you go to my webpage:
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Palace/3649/index.html
you'll find a character guide with background info for "C&K." Ha!
That's *one* way of getting you to visit! Bai bai!