A Stolen Crown (23 page)

Aaron was amazed as he watched Malek moving about the deck, unlashing ropes and unfurling a small jib at the front. Carly also seemed to know her way around the boat and she helped Malek work the rigging. Malek noticed Aaron standing idly in the middle of the deck, watching him and Carly and he hollered at him from the front of the boat.

“Make yourself useful, lad,” Malek told him. “Get ready to weigh anchor.”

From his studies, Aaron knew what an anchor was and what it did, but having never set foot on a boat in his life, he was not sure exactly how to do what Malek asked. The man could plainly see Aaron's confusion. He laughed and beckoned him forward, pointing to the heavy rope that ran from the bow of the boat into the water. As the wind caught the small sail that Malek was handling, the boat began to move forward and Aaron grabbed the rope and started to haul it in, dropping lengths of it in a mess of coils at his feet. Malek laughed and when Carly, who had been helping him, saw what Aaron was doing, she started laughing as well then came over to help him.

“You coil the rope when you haul it in,” she explained and quickly made a circle with the rope then laid another upon it as she continued to bring it in.

The boat moved nimbly out of the small inlet and entered the main river. The strong current carried them quickly along and Malek was able to maneuver the boat with the rudder and the help of the small jib which needed only minor adjustments. Once they were moving along the river, Carly pulled out some bedrolls and showed Aaron where he could rest for the night while Malek piloted the boat. Glad of the chance to finally get off his feet, Aaron unbuckled his swords and laid down the deck atop the bedroll Carly had given him.

“You're not much of a sailor, that's for sure,” Malek quipped at Aaron, hollering down from the raised platform at the back of the boat where he stood, leaning on the tiller and steering the boat through the currents. “Hopefully you'll prove yourself useful some other way. I take it those fancy blades of yours aren't just for decoration?”

“He's pretty good with a blade,” Carly told the man as she arranged her own bedding on the deck close to Aaron.

“Good,” Malek pronounced with a nod, looking over at Aaron, who had leaned up on one elbow. “You better be up to the task if we're going to get the supplies we need.”

“What does he mean by that?” Aaron asked Carly.

“In a little more than a day we will stop at a town called Forsina,” she explained. “It’s a small trading town where this river joins the Maramyr. It’s also the southern border where the lands of Maramyr meet those of Ansara on the east and Elvanar on the west.”

“I have heard of it,” Aaron told her, thinking back to the many books he had read and he remembered Forsina was a trading city that was also famous for being a town of fighters. It was not the sort of place he wanted to spend a whole lot of time. “How long are we going to stop there?”

“That depends,” Carly said. “It's a long journey to the coast and we need money for supplies. Unfortunately, we aren't bringing a shipment of gold from Rivergate, so we have absolutely nothing to trade. That leaves only one option; the Circles of Forsina.”

When she mentioned the circles, Aaron remembered the rest of what he had read about Forsina. Carly could tell that he was not unfamiliar with what she had just told him.

“You’ve heard about the Circles?” she asked.

“They’re fighting rings," Aaron said. "It used to be famous long ago, when the best fighters in the world would compete there. Do people still fight in the circles?"

“Yes, they do," Carly told him. "I haven't spent much time there, but according to Malek, other than the local trading that goes on there, there are still regular fights in the circles and the traders are always willing to bet on the fights, which is the primary pastime at Forsina. If you're as good as I hope you are, we should be able to win enough to resupply the boat and make our way to the coast.”

“You want me to fight in the circles, for money?” Aaron asked.

“Why not?” Carly said. “Besides, if it weren't for you and the princess showing up in Rivergate, our little gold-smuggling arrangement would not have been ruined, so I figure you owe me.”

“So you made a deal with Malek that I would fight for money, without mentioning it to me?” Carly sat down on the wooden deck next to him.

“Why else do you think he let us on his boat?” Carly noticed his sour look. “I had to tell him something.”

“You could have asked me about it first,” Aaron said. The idea of fighting for money was something that had not occurred to him and he was not quite sure how he felt about it. Tarnath had always told him that fighting was meant to be a last resort. As much as his uncle valued training and skill at arms, he always said that smarter folks did everything they could to avoid fighting. Carly sighed.

“I'm sorry, Aaron. I didn't think you would have a problem with it. And I figured it was best that I discuss it with Malek directly. I don't know if you noticed, but Malek is a Maeren, a pirate, and there is no way he would deal straight with you. That’s the trick with the Maerens. If you're not one of them and they think they can get away with it, they will double-cross you in a second. Malek knows of me and he knows I’m no fool. He’ll abide by our agreement, because he knows if he doesn’t, not only would I slit his throat, but he could lose his right to port, which is probably almost more valuable to him than his own neck.”

“I understand," Aaron told her. "I just wish I knew more about things before they happened."

Aaron could feel a slight pain at the base of his skull and he worried that the ward might be troubling him again, but it was most likely just from the tension of exhaustion. Everything had happened so fast and he felt himself getting frustrated. Carly could see his consternation plainly written on his face. She had only just met Aaron, but she could tell he was not one to hide his feelings. That trait reminded her of her husband, the reason she had given up her old life and married him, hoping for a better life that was sadly not meant to be. No, the world was hard and cruel and there were things that just needed to be done in order to stay alive and move forward. It was best that Aaron learned that lesson as well.

“We need the money, Aaron and that's the deal I struck with Malek so he would agree to take us,” Carly told him then she softened her tone. “It's going to be a long, hot day tomorrow so I would get some rest if I were you.”

Aaron was extremely tired and could barely make sense of what Carly was telling him anyway. He was also very discouraged at having lost Ariana and part of him had stopped caring about what would happen to him next. For now, he would take Carly's advice and get some sleep. Hopefully tomorrow would be a better day.

“Get some sleep,” Carly told him again. “I'll keep Malek company for a while.”

A smooth pale hand caressed the shiny black scales that ran down the back of the large creature that suckled at the breast of the queen. Draxis’ fangs no longer injured his mother when he fed since he had already slaked his thirst for blood earlier, much preferring the taste of fear that coursed through the blood of the slaves they brought him every evening. Still, he was only a young half-Darga and though he had grown larger than any full-grown human male, the warmth of his mother’s milk still soothed him.

Draxis was a proud creature and Calexis was proud of her son. Over the cold months of winter, he had grown quickly and his intelligence surpassed even the queen’s own expectations and, with the changing of yet another season, he had become formidable. The half-lizard now spoke almost as well an adult and he had even begun to feel the awakening of magic, part of it inherited from his Darga blood and part of it from his mother. The mage-priest, Shadar had convinced Calexis that Draxis should be trained to use his power and even though she did not entirely trust the members of the Priesthood, she allowed them to teach her son what they could, but only in her presence. She doted on Draxis and, with her help, he learned quickly and was always reminded of who it was that held true authority in the Xallan Empire.

Queen Calexis heard the small bell that announced the arrival of visitors to her chamber. Gently she pushed Draxis from her breast and motioned for him to take his place behind the large drapes that hung from the wall behind her bed. She picked up a thin-bladed dagger from her bedside and idly played with it.

“Enter,” she called out.

The heavy doors swung open and the guards ushered the two Darga she had expected. One black and one brown, they were Razak and Gorak, the leaders of the two Darga tribes. They eyed each other suspiciously as they traversed the vast room they had visited once before. Calexis held out her hand and the two Darga stopped. They glanced around, wondering that she would allow them into her chamber without one of those irritating mages to make them obedient. Razak was the first to speak.

“Human queen is more beautiful now.” He grinned with his wide lizard mouth. Gortak apparently agreed as well.

“Queen makes herself good for Darga. Queen like Darga, yes,” he said suggestively. Calexis could see that the two Darga were interested in a repeat of their last visit. She smiled lazily. She had never experienced such violent pleasure as that the two Darga had visited on her and though the changes that had taken place in her body would likely make it much more easy on her now, for once she was not in the mood, and the novelty of the idea had worn off somewhat, and she now had different goals to fulfil.

“Welcome prized Darga Razak and Gorak,” Calexis said. “Are you still the leaders of your tribes?” Both Darga nodded.

“And how does one become a leader of a Darga tribe?” she asked. Gorak stepped forward, his reptilian eyes intense with pride.

“Kill Darga leader. Challenge for death,” he said, holding up a scaled fist. Calexis inclined her head to the other Darga.

“Is this true of the Brown Darga as well?” she asked Razak.

“Razak Darga kill Kranak Darga and become leader to Brown Darga,” Razak confirmed proudly. Calexis smiled at them both.

“Then you must be the greatest warriors of all the Darga,” she said. Both of them clenched their fists to their chests, the common sign of strength for Darga warriors.

“Razak is greatest warrior of all Darga.” Razak told her. Gorak growled at the other Darga.

“Gorak greatest warrior of all Darga,” he said. Calexis nodded.

“Very impressive, both of you. It’s a wonder that you do not challenge one another for leadership of all the Darga.”

The two Darga looked at each other and growled, but neither of them made a move. She could sense the respectful dislike they held for one another. These Darga were simple but they were not stupid. They were equally matched and knew what would happen if they fought. Whichever of them turned out to be the winner would likely not emerge from such a fight unscathed. As much as they wanted to fight to prove which one of them was the strongest, they both held a respectful fear of one another. These Darga would not fight one another. Still, they could both be disposed of just as easily.

The Xallan queen raised her hand and gestured to the side of her bed where her son waited patiently behind the heavy curtains.

“Draxis.” she called and the half-lizard emerged from the drapes. “I want you to meet your fathers.”

Now that Calexis saw them all in the same room she was impressed with what the mage-priest Shadar had told her. Draxis, though just barely full grown, was already a shade bigger than Gorak, the larger of the two Darga leaders. “Gorak, Razak, meet my son, Draxis.”

The two Darga growled. They had sensed something Darga in the air but the queen’s own scent and their memories of their night with her had distracted them from it. They stared at Draxis, unsure of what to make of him. He looked like the queen, almost human, but they could see that he was also Darga. Neither Gorak or Razak was sure what to do. They both had many children among their tribes, but not one that looked like this and they both recognized the predatory scent Draxis gave off and knew what it meant. Calexis turned to her son, who stared at the two Darga males who, together, had fathered him.

“Draxis,” Calexis said. “Are you stronger than Gorak?”

“Yes, mother,” Draxis replied, eliciting a growl from the black-scaled Darga.

“And what about Razak? Are you stronger than him?”

“Yes, mother. I am stronger.”

Calexis looked at the two Darga leaders who stood before her, growling at Draxis.

“Good. Kill them both,” she said.

“Yes, mother,” Draxis said and grinned at them, his human lips stretching wide in a smile that revealed his rows of sharply pointed Darga teeth and shining white retractable fangs that poked just below the rest.

In an instant, Draxis leapt toward the two Darga, his fangs extended and sharp, razor-like claws elongating from his scaled fingertips. Razak was faster and he dodged to the side, missing a slash from Draxis' claws. Gorak stumbled backward from the impact, as Draxis barrelled into him. One of Gorak's large, scaled arms lifted up to protect himself and Draxis slashed underneath it with his claws as Gorak’s other arm swung around to knock him aside. Draxis flew through the air from the impact and he slid across the floor, quickly leaping to his feet as though the hit had barely touched him.

Calexis watched as Gorak took a step toward her son, who had turned to face Razak. Draxis did not even turn at the sound of Gorak’s heavy footfall. He already knew the other Darga was no longer a threat and the next sound was of the large Darga falling hard on the stone floor and his entrails sliding messily out of the deep gash Draxis had cut in his midsection.

Razak swung at Draxis and was surprised that his claws cut through thin air where the half-Darga had been standing. He swung again and Draxis ducked low and rushed in at him using the momentum of the brown Darga's swing to spin him and knock him off balance. Razak instinctively covered his throat as Draxis’ claws raked across his neck. Black blood spattered the floor as the scales on the top of Razak’s clawed hands were cut through.

A cleanly severed clawed finger fell to the floor and Razak howled in pain. He spun and swung his leg at Draxis, catching him by surprise. Draxis was fast, faster than either of the two Darga, but he had never fought a real Darga before and seemed to relish at the chance to prove himself. Razak saw the eagerness in the young half-Darga's eyes and knew he did not stand a chance against the unnaturally quick and strong opponent. He saw his desperate chance in the large picture-glass window set into the far wall. With a snarl, Razak bounded across the room and threw himself at the thick glass panes, bending the lead framing as he smashed through it, plummeting from the high window. Draxis chased after him but Calexis called out.

“Stop,” she told him. “Look first, Draxis. It is very high.”

She calmly walked over to the smashed window and gazed down the high drop upon the sloped and dark-tiled rooves of her expansive palace. There was no sign of the Darga below. It was likely that he had slid off the slippery tiles and landed on some walkway. It was unlikely that even a Darga could have survived.

“Go and look for the body,” she told him then pointed at Gorak’s dead body. “Then take your prize to the Black Darga. You are their leader now.”

“Yes, mother,” Draxis said with a toothy grin then dashed out of the room to hunt down the other Darga that had escaped, the creature that had played a part in his creation and who would be the next victim of his instinctive bloodlust.

Calexis stared out the window at the morning sky. The sun had risen fully now and far below, the great city of Xalla Prime had come to life. She felt a brief and mocking sense of pity for any of the people who got in the way of her beautiful son, Draxis. The guards had been instructed not to interfere with him, and Calexis had told them to follow any order he gave them as though it came from the queen herself. He had matured so quickly and had learned so much in such a short period of time. The combination of her own and the Darga blood had created something new and fearsome and she contemplated the idea of an entire army of creatures like Draxis. At the same time, she was jealous at the idea of others sharing in the power she had gained, that she now controlled. Calexis stared out, looking far to the west and thought of the vast lands that waited beyond her borders. Soon, she would again travel to Maramyr.

*****

Outside the black stone walls of the capital city of Xalla Prime, the Brown Darga dashed through the dense forest, his clawed feet kicking up dark mud and moss as he raced toward the swamp. Razak was no coward, but he was also not a fool. Even though he was a powerful Darga, Razak knew instinctually that he was no match for the human queen's Darga child, Draxis. The cold ferocity of the half-Darga who was not even yet fully-grown had frightened Razak and he was ashamed at his weakness but he did not wish to meet the same fate of the black Darga who had been killed so quickly before his eyes.

Razak was an experienced warrior among his tribe and he was their leader, but it was not due to strength or size that he had assumed such a position. His advantage was speed and intelligence, which had given him an edge over opponents in the past, allowing him to survive battles and best the many challengers among the Darga who tried to take his position. He was smart about things. When he crashed through the window, he already knew where he would fall and had rolled when he hit the tiled roof below the queen's window then leapt to another roof and quickly ducked around a corner, changing direction. As soon as he was out of sight of the palace, he had dropped to the ground and made his way from the city as quickly as he could, sticking to side-streets and gripping his injured hand tightly in his other to stop the bleeding.

He did not want to leave a trail that Draxis or any other pursuers could follow. Darga senses were especially attuned to the smell of blood and the last thing he wanted was to run into one of his own people or have another encounter with Draxis. He would have to get as far away from the city as he could, as quickly as possible. Razak stopped at the edge of a swamp and focused his power, using a magic that was common among the Darga, one that allowed him to quickly heal the wound he had sustained. With enough time and proper care, a Darga could heal almost any wound that was not life threatening, even growing back limbs in some cases. A few Darga had the ability to use magic to speed up that process and Razak was one of them.

As he called his power, his missing finger began to regenerate, new bone and flesh growing from the stump of the finger he had lost, the slashes across his hands disappearing and light colored, translucent scales forming a protective outer layer. He knew it would take time for the healed areas to darken back to his natural earthy brown color and for his claw to regrow, but all that mattered was that he no longer bled. Razak picked up a clump of mud from the ground and used it to clean any remaining blood from himself, removing the scent altogether, then he waded into the water of the swamp and dove in, dropping below he surface and swimming away toward where the water deepened.

Only surfacing for the occasional breath of air, Razak swam through the swamp quickly putting even more distance between himself and the city. He had thought about heading to the camp where his Brown Darga soldiers awaited his return, but he thought Draxis would probably be waiting for him, to usurp his position as the head of his warriors and the leader of his tribe. No, returning to his people would surely mean death and he was not going to give the half-Darga the satisfaction of killing him. According to Darga tradition, leadership was decided by a public challenge and a fight to the death. Of course, running away automatically mean that he had forfeited his position as well, but Razak was less concerned with that than he was with his life.

Before long, he had made it to the other side of the swamp and, finding a rocky area where he would not leave any tracks, he slithered up out of the water, leapt to his feet and kept moving, pushing his way through a dense thicket and into the forest beyond. He had not gone very far when he caught a familiar scent, a similar scent to that of the human queen but mixed with Darga, the same scent as her half-breed son. Razak froze. How could Draxis have caught up to him so easily? Razak had not stopped moving since he had escaped the palace and he was sure he had not been followed. It was possible he could be tracked, especially because the scent of his blood still lingered despite having been immersed in water for such a distance, but that would take time. He looked around. The ground was relatively clear of brush and open but all he could see was forest, the thick trunks of trees lined in all directions underneath a dense canopy of leaves. That was when he saw her.