Legacy

Legacy

by Stephanie Barr

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Stephanie Barr

Discover other titles by Stephanie Barr at Smashwords.com

Conjuring Dreams or Learning to Write by Writing

Tarot Queen

Beast Within (First of the Bete Novels)

Nine Lives (Second of the Bete Novels)

Saving Tessa

Musings of a Nascent Poet

Curse of the Jenri

Dedicated to Stephanie, Roxy and Alex, always.

To Chuck Larlham who not only supported these stories at every step along the way, but beta read the whole thing again without complaint.

To Mirren Hogan, Eric Klein, Lee Barr, Dar Matthews, Jen Ponce, and Ana Marija Meshkova, proof that good beta readers are worth their weight in gold

And to Fiona Sky who edited eight of these stories.

Several stories were inspired by and dedicated to Hillary Clinton. The last story is also dedicated to George Takai.

Cover by Ryn Katryn, Digital Art

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Curse of the Jenri

Delicate Dangerous Queens

Not a Doxy

Hidden Treasure

Not Quite a Knight

The Bete Series (Beast Within and Nine Lives)

Power Struggle

Storm Front

Gauntlet

Knight Errant

Saving Tessa

Technical Difficulties

Roman Holiday

Aftershocks

Grandma's Cooking

Tarot Queen

King of Swords

King of Wands

The Hanged Man

Wheel of Fortune

Where Credit Is Due

Future Novels

Easy Prey

Out of the Box

Not a People Person

Out of the Common Way

Second Life

Standalone Stories

The Path We Choose

The Devil You Know

Nightmare Blanket

Blaze of Glory

Nemesis

Assailing the Impossible

Bloody Unicorn

Cassandra

Overkill

Legacy

About the Author

Curse of the Jenri Section

Among the many short stories you'll find here are stories that I ended up creating about the characters I fell in love with in my own novels. In the case of the Curse of the Jenri, I spent a great deal of time in the book going into the history of the Jenri tribe and our lead actors, Tander and Layla. However, Curse of the Jenri is really an ensemble piece, and many of the other players we meet with bring little insight into their history, at least with regards to their induction into the Jenri tribe.

Therefore, in this section, I have origin stories for some of the side characters from Curse of the Jenri, namely stories on how they happened to meet up with their various significant others. I don't spend a great deal of time delving into the Jenri lore—as I said that can be found in the novel—but I touch on enough that I think, even in just these stories, the reader can appreciate they are an unusual breed of woman and not individuals to ally oneself with unless one is pretty stout of heart oneself.

Many of the Jenri in these stories had little to no real parts in the novel as well, so it's nice to see the kind of mates Saldomar, Cristo, and Riko were so dedicated to rescue. And, of course, there was the never-answered mystery in the novel as to what, exactly was so unique about Denra's mate, Klaveron. These are all prequels so there really are no spoilers, but they are hopefully a good bit of fun if you're not familiar with the novel, and a bit of extra delight if you love it.

As with all the stories in the collection, they should be enjoyable whether or not you read the original materials and whether or not you've read the other stories in the collection.

Delicate Dangerous Queens

What a stupid way to die, trying to save a stranger, Saldomar muttered. The surf washed against the horrific hole in his side, bringing a wave of painful fire with its salty kiss. What kind of idiot gets on a ship when he can't swim? Should never have dived after him. I should've let him drown.

Though, upon further reflection, Saldomar had to admit the end the stranger met with—a school of hungry sharks—was hardly more pleasant than drowning. Saldomar wished mightily they hadn't seen him as a second course.

Saldomar got away—magic has its uses—but not unscathed, because magic has its limitations. Saldomar figured he'd used up the rest of his good luck being close enough to shore to make it to not-quite-dry ground. He'd been there, baking in the sun, half in and out of the water, for what seemed hours. It probably hadn't been hours, but the distinction didn't really seem important since even the expectation of death was not quite compelling enough to get him to crawl entirely onto dry land.

Saldomar the Mage. There was a part of the world that would shudder at that name, offer obeisance, or perhaps make the sign against evil. How his master would laugh to see him now, a victim of the tide. Saldomar summoned a chuckle. His master would probably kick him again for good measure for his cockiness.

He ought to get up and do it himself right now, before he ran out of blood.

He waited to see if that would work.

Nope, still nothing.

The sharks didn't get any vital organs—Saldomar was just quick enough to move bowels and kidney out of the way—but the sharks made a mess of some muscles and more than a few blood vessels, so the sea left a little redder than it came in. Too bad mages can't heal themselves, he thought bitterly, though he could feel his magical reservoirs were ebbing, too. But he might make it, if he wasn't jammed between a couple of rock spurs on some Bastor-forsaken pebbly beach with no signs of intelligent life anywhere.

As if in answer to that thought, there was a scream. Not human, but also not the scream of any animal he could readily imagine. It was a defiant, angry, I'm-going-to-kill-you scream, and Saldomar was really not in the mood to be eaten by anything that vicious. But, while the screaming and obvious sounds of clashing and tussling, punctuated by yelps and grunts of pain, felt close enough to be within arm's length, Saldomar saw nothing.

Which should have made him happy. That was all he needed: to be torn to bits by thrashing animals. And yet, as the fight progressed and the screaming of the first creature became more strident, more desperate, he wasn't finding himself the least bit pleased.

What in Nether was going on?

Curiosity, as his master had noted, was an occupational hazard for mages. Saldomar had it in spades. When a hideous beast—about half Saldomar's size, like a dog-warthog cross—landed with a thud by his head, dead, Saldomar had to know what had happened. Following the trajectory of the monster, Saldomar managed to pull himself past his rock spurs. With a little more stubbornness, he dragged himself over the lip of what he thought was an embedded volcanic boulder, but which turned out to be the hollowed-out cup of a nest of large eggs. The eggs, mostly broken now, were being attacked by a sizable pack of more of the nasty beasts and were defended by the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

She looked like a dragon in miniature, made of amethyst and jade, so like crystal herself she seemed almost translucent. Her efforts to defend her eggs had not been fruitless. There were more dead beasts than those still living, but it had taken a toll. One of her wings was badly mauled, so she was grounded and there were several wounds in her lustrous hide. Many of the dead were scorched so Saldomar presumed she had fire breath, but it, like magic, appeared to be a finite resource. With her brood reduced to a couple of eggs at most, she stood steadfast above them. Her functioning wing poised as a shield, but she was but one creature and they were clearly practiced in teamwork.

He saw the bum's rush, knew she would fall, and spoke without thinking, a simple spell of sleep. Natural magic wasn't his forte, per se, but it wasn't taxing and worked well on all but two of the creatures. She attacked one of the remainders while the other jumped on her back. Saldomar gathered a bit of his magic power and aimed a fireball at her assailant, hoping her fire breath made her resistant to flames.

The creature fell from her, screaming, flaming, but crushed another egg. The dragon queen screeched and latched on to the last of her attackers with a merciless bite to the throat. When it collapsed, she fell with it and didn't move, other than ragged breaths that shook her body and tremors of nerves flailing their last.

Hey, he said conversationally, the others are just asleep. They'll wake up soon.

Oh, well. I did what I could, he thought. Maybe she'll get lucky. But he couldn't quite escape the notion that her store of luck, like his, was finite.

So, with an effort that surprised him and a bolt of debilitating pain, he managed to pull himself over the lip and tumble down into the dragonet-made caldera.

His magic might be tapped out, but he had his dagger. He crawled from one remaining beastie to the next, making sure they were all well and truly dead, pausing only for the waves of nauseating pain to wash over him or to wait out the fits of dizziness.

He found himself truly grieving as he saw the small dragon bodies, in a myriad of jewel-like colors, all but formed, crushed or partially eaten. They were probably only days from hatching. He searched among the tiny corpses, small enough to fit in his cupped hands, and shell fragments, to see if any eggs remained intact. There were three he thought might be, but one was torn through on the other side and one had cracked long since, its cargo dried out and rattling within the shell. Only one egg, still warm and heavy in his hand, remained. This shell was purplish and he could almost feel the heartbeat of the creature within.

A hiss broke him from his reverie and he turned his head to see the queen arched over him, her violet eyes whirling with fury. She was trembling but he didn't know if it was the pain and blood loss or her own rage. Her body was badly mauled and her ravaged wing dragged behind her. He doubted she would ever fly again.

But she was intent on him and what he would do to her last egg.

He offered her the egg, surprised at his own reluctance, his hands shaking as he leaned on his other elbow and held it out to her. She cocked her head to the side, regarding him intently, and then pushed his hand back with her muzzle and a whuff of tired breath.

He had no time to puzzle out her meaning as he found his world going black but had enough presence of mind to curl around the egg so it would not fall.

*

The last thing Saldomar expected to do was wake up again. Ever. Of course, once he had, that left quite an array of other unexpected prospects before him.

The smell of a fire, the warmth of it, the crackles and pops, woke him, but he didn't open his eyes right away. He figured he'd enjoy not being dead for a moment before finding out if he was roasting on a spit.

How long were you going to pretend you were asleep? a voice, light as down, asked. He felt a cool touch at his forehead and opened his eyes.

She was as dainty and beautiful as the dragonet queen. Pointed pixie face with huge sea-green eyes lashed with ridiculously long blonde lashes, a tiny nose, a narrow full mouth, and skin as translucent and pale as alabaster. The sprinkle of freckles on her nose and her long braid of red-gold hair were just enough to make her seem human. Still, he'd been out of luck.

Have I died? Are you an angel?

Her voice was still dulcimer soft, but quite firm. "You are not dead. And I am no angel."

Hmm.

What?

I'm trying to decide if that's better for me or worse.

She narrowed those magnificent eyes, which did nothing to dim their beauty, and started to probe his skull. Did you hit your head as well? As she leaned over him, he noted her loose-fitting tunic in blue-green, and that she was, nonetheless, as slender as a reed.

I knew I was out of luck. You're a child! Bastor is a soulless bastard.

I've often thought so myself, but I see no reason to curse your God for something that isn't even true. I'm nearly thirty summers old.

Impossible! Saldomar said with feeling.

Quite possible, she said, pushing back wisps of hair with long-fingered hands on impossibly small wrists. I will say that my apparent age can be used for my own benefit however. How do you feel?

How did he feel? And now that her ethereal beauty was not filling his vision, where in Nether was he and how did he get here? What happened to the dragonet queen and the—?

The egg! He would have jerked up but a heavy weight on his chest stopped him, and strangely, began to purr.

I have it safe here. She had risen to stir a pot of something at the fire, and he spotted the purplish egg, cozy in a nest of cloth.

From his recumbent vantage point, he saw they were in a cave but there were holes in the ceiling so the smoke could escape, and something about the light from the mouth of the cave made him think they were still close to shore.

How did you find me?

The dragonet queen called Wiser, she said, indicating the huge gray and white cat perched on his chest. The cat blinked at him with one eye of startlingly bright green and the other of an equally startling blue. And Wiser led me to you. Wiser, you can let him get up. Wiser rose and stepped to Saldomar's opposite side and sat placidly.

The girl—woman—readied a bowl of something that looked like stew.

Who are you? How did I get here? he asked her. He wasn't sure if he was hungry anyway. How much of his gut was left? He was not anxious to look.

She dropped the spoon with a little splash. Let me explain something. I'm Jenri. I'm not a blushing violet or dainty daisy. I can carry a skinny man like you, even waterlogged, without trouble, and I'm a fair hand with healing spells. Go and check. Go on.

He explored with his fingers first, and when they found only whole flesh, sat up in surprise, braced for the wave of pain that didn't come. It wasn't perfect but the flesh had filled in, the muscles underneath undersized but connected. It was a masterful job even for an expert, which she should hardly be at thirty years old. This is incredible.

It helped that your body wanted to be healed. Many magic user's bodies are resistant to healing.

Well, one doesn't get to be— it occurred to him that advertising his actual age would be confusing for this youngster, "my age without having learned a thing or two. Did you say your name was Jenri?"

"Jenri is my tribe. Have you not heard of us? My name is Cordalin. And your stew will get cold. I couldn't replace your blood so you need to eat."

He stopped her hand before she could feed him. Gently. Thank you. For saving me, for bringing me here, for healing me, for saving the egg. I can, however, feed myself.

She handed him the bowl.

The dragonet queen... Is she...? He didn't want to say it and took a mouthful of stew.

"She's dead. She was dead when we got there. Wiser said she had told us to save you and make sure you kept the egg, that she entrusted it to you. Given your reaction earlier, she seemed to know what she was talking about. Then we burned her and her broken brood as she'd asked."

And those nasty creatures that attacked her? he asked before another bite.

Make a pretty good stew, don't they?

He rolled the savory stew around his mouth and nodded before swallowing. They were damned tasty in fact, for all their outward ugliness. What is this tribe of Jenri, and why would you think I recognize it?

Though kneeling, her back stiffened and her eyes flashed. Everyone has heard of the Jenri!

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes spitting fire, she was magnificent. The jade jewelry, chased with silver, threaded through her hair and about her neck glowed with her passion and he could feel the force of it. He settled back with his stew to enjoy the show. Not I. Are they a traveling troupe of entertainers? he asked in his most innocent voice.

She leapt to her feet with a grace he had to admire and began pacing, stopping now and again to shake an angry finger in his direction. The Jenri, she said with censure, have been famous for more than one hundred and ten generations, nearly two thousand years! We have been free for all that time. Not one descendant of Lavinia has been enslaved or stolen without reprisals from the clan, Jenri warriors, and their mates.

How fierce! he said politely, then held out his bowl. More stew?

She snatched the bowl from his hands and refilled it at the pot, making far more noise than she had the first time. She thrust it back in his hands, knocking the spoon to the floor in her haste. Then, she loomed over him. The Jenri have bred only warrior women for thousands of years, warriors that, unlike most, can do magic as well as they fight.

Saldomar choked on his stew and was unsuccessful in making it look like a cough.

"Are you laughing at me? At us? Do you think you can look at me and know what I can do?"

Well, she had him there. Even if she did look like a twelve-year-old girl with her skinny legs and slender frame, he knew looks could tell little. Around her tiny waist she wore a leather belt with a number of deadly-looking knives. Against a rock, elsewhere in the cave, he'd noted a slim sword and a tall bow with a quiver of arrows, sitting next to his own swords and knives. As a slender man with a pretty face, he'd lived a lifetime with people underestimating his power and physical prowess.

And there was no doubt she had brought him here and saved his life. She deserved better than to have her own power mocked.

He set aside his bowl, and as gracefully as he could muster naked and sitting, he bowed his regrets. "I'm sorry. I was teasing you, but I already know you are a woman of formidable power."

She let out her breath, already visibly calmer. Interesting. His first perception—that she was a redhead of unusually placid nature—returned. But that temper was something to behold.

Forgive me. You are just so beautiful when you are angry, I couldn't help myself.

The color in her cheeks, which had been receding, blossomed into deep red, darker even than her hair. You're teasing again, she accused.

I most certainly am not. You are easily the most beautiful woman I've ever seen with a mouth that appears to be made for kissing. Saldomar didn't hide his sincerity, certain she could read it.

I'm not... I'm not beautiful, she said, but without power.

Saldomar rose, ignoring his nudity, and touched her bright cheek. The Jenri you say are warrior women? What happens to their sons? Saldomar had always been shorter than most men and slight of stature, but he was still taller than this delicate creature who bristled with power. He found the combination heady.

We don't... We can't have sons.

With no men, how do you have children?

Cordalin had closed her eyes at his caress, but opened them and pushed his hand away. You're too close, she said. Jenri women mate only with men who can beat them in some sort of combat.

Ah, he said. Have you some clothes I could wear?

I would not fight a man who's recovering from near death, she said, outraged. I have the clothes you were wearing when I found you but have not repaired your shirt. And I had no way to wash them, but they should be dry.

He found them, still stiff with salt, but that was easy to fix with a simple spell he'd learned early in his apprenticeship to avoid cleaning. He shook the soil, salt, and blood away, then dressed quickly. You saved them intact? That must have made things quite complicated. Thank you for your consideration. Another spell set the shirt to mending itself. The spells that made his work easier as an apprentice were the ones he learned first. Pity he'd lost his cloak, a lovely creation of black silk. But it had certainly saved his life by distracting the sharks and just as certainly it would have cost him his life if he'd tried to drag its waterlogged folds with him to shore.

Truth is, he needed a moment. He'd always been attracted to women of power, and they were few and far between. He found himself incredibly attracted to this lovely wisp of a girl, but his century and a half of experience was a poor match for her innocent youth, and he'd be best served to remember it. When she talked of mating Jenri women, there was little doubt she meant a lifetime commitment. If he made a move, she would misunderstand and she deserved better than treatment of that sort.

Which was a real pity. There was more than one way to flush skin as fair as hers and he would truly love to do so with passion.

In the interest of not threatening her, he left his weapons where she'd placed them. When he turned back to her, she was back to her original calm. How do you feel? Your wound?

I still feel shaky but I suspect that's the blood I lost. There is almost no pain, which is more than I deserve for my foolishness. I'm sorry to have taken you from your destination for so long. He stopped and tried to figure it from the light from the cave. How long have I been here?

Two days.

Ah. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I had caused so much inconvenience. Or that I had diverted you so long from where ever you were headed. He bowed.

The choice to be diverted was my own. Well, mine and Wiser's, so no apology is necessary. And I wasn't going anywhere in particular.

Saldomar kept his doubts to himself. She was remarkably well provisioned for an aimless ramble. Well, I'm sure I can get by on my own if you'd prefer to continue on your way.

She smiled up at him, wrinkling her nose in a darling way. Can you continue your own healing?

No, I haven't that power.

But you have power. You're a magician, right? I saw what you did to your shirt.

I am a mage, but we are no more skilled at self-healing than any other magician.

Yet you carry swords and knives.

As do you. The Jenri are not alone in their embrace of both fighting skills and magic.

Her brow wrinkled. You are the first I've heard of in the world of men.

He bit his tongue on his retort, every bit as hot as hers on the Jenri. If the Magii were as well known on his continent as the Jenri were on this one, she could hardly know that, and he'd revealed too much of his foreignness with his earlier ignorance. After a pause he said, We're something of an elite lot and not cohesive as a tribe as you Jenri are. Both statements were true after all.

She looked up at him from under her lashes, and it occurred to Saldomar that she might be perceiving more than she was letting on. He'd best be on guard. You intrigue me, Mage who-has-yet-to-give-his-name, she said. Do you object if I wait here a few more days? I can further your healing, and I've a yen to see that egg hatch, if you don't mind.

Saldomar. He was both gratified and dismayed. She was a tempting creature and a stimulation in mind and spirit he'd not had in a long time. But he couldn't blame her for wanting to see the hatchling. He quite yearned to do the same.

*

The egg seemed in no hurry to oblige. While Saldomar's strength and stamina returned with rest and food, and his wound approached a perfect repair with Cordalin's continued ministrations, the egg refused to show any signs of change. They kept it warm, and sometimes, he felt he could sense movement within, but nothing imminent.

In the meantime, he was relegated to bed rest, largely, but allowed to roam the cave. His entrapment was made tolerable by many a fine conversation with Cordalin, who turned out to be every bit as clever as she was beautiful. He found himself waiting wistfully when she went out on reconnaissance and to check on her mount left alone in a nearby wood with no apparent worries for abandonment or theft.

He offered once to checking the mount for her and was greeted with a look of such disdain his pride would not let him repeat it. Did she think only the Jenri could do such a simple task?

Also, when she left, he was consigned to boredom with naught to entertain himself but stroke the egg—in an encouraging manner. He knew he was recovered in mind and body, but he was reluctant for his time with this intriguing creature to come to an end. It needed to, though, for he was finding her increasingly endearing and that was no good for a gadabout like himself.

Five days—conscious—with her, and they'd flown by. He decided, he'd treasure and perhaps dream about these days for years to come, including all the things that had not come to pass, and would never come to pass... Unless he changed his mind and could actually win a contest with her, which he knew now would be no small feat.

Cordalin had barely left the shelter of the cave when Saldomar heard a crack from the egg and called her back. She's hatching! He had always known instinctively the dragonet-to-be was female. He had an affinity for females in general.

Cordalin rushed back in, grabbing the bucket of fresh fish they kept to ensure the new hatchling would be fed. Wiser had told Cordalin, if you don't know what to feed something, fish is always a wise choice. Both of them hovered over the egg in its nest of blankets near the fire. The egg was rocking with energy now, and the first crack had been joined by more. When the hardened snout of purple-black broke through the tough shell, he had to stop himself from yelling encouragement.

Raack! the baby cried, pushing back shards of shell with talons as long as his own fingernails. The tiny creature, small enough to curl into his cupped hands, shook off the last of her shell and unfurled delicate wings of gray with just a hint of purple, still glistening with the liquid from her hatching. Her spiked tail stretched behind her nearly the length of his forearm. She opened her jaw on her pointed face, her purple eyes focused on Saldomar's face. Pick me up! I'm cold! she demanded in his mind.

Saldomar offered his arm, and she climbed on, using her talons with little care and wrapping her tail around his wrist. I, she said with great dignity, am Weird. I need food.

Saldomar nodded to Cordalin, who understood immediately, and grabbed a fish from the bucket, slicing open its belly as she offered it to the tiny beast.

The talons biting into his arm tightened and Saldomar offered. If you're going to eat that with any sort of ferocity, I would prefer you not take my arm with it.

Weird paused and then stepped back to the cave floor, changing the grip of her tail so it was still wrapped around Saldomar's wrist, but her body was free to attack the fish with gusto. Three fish were dispatched and eaten in a very short space of time. Then, without preamble, she climbed back up Saldomar's arm and curled up in the crook of his elbow to sleep.

That was vicious, Cordalin said, awed, and perhaps the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

Saldomar found himself moved beyond words. He felt like his whole world was here, in this cave, this tiny scrap of ancient magic and the beautiful woman who could voice his own thoughts without effort.

Tears he could not stop in his eyes, he turned from the dragonet to Cordalin just in time to see the readied crossbow right before it was triggered. Duck!

Quick as thought, Cordalin was ducking, turning, throwing knives, as she made a beeline for her sword, bow, and probably other weapons. Four men in armor and formal regalia dropped at the entrance, hilts poking from various armor vulnerabilities. Saldomar recognized the crest from the ship he'd been on a week previously and raced after her.

Here, she said, handing him his weapons. Take that baby and escape. I'll hold them off.

Those, he said with significant umbrage, are the local king's soldiers. His own army!

I was afraid they'd find me, she explained with no hint of remorse. C'mon, c'mon, buckle up and get moving. More are coming.

Move where? We're in a cave! We're trapped!

Trapped? Bastet help me, you think a Jenri would hole up someplace without a back door? she asked, firing arrows at the next wave with the same precision as her knives. Are you daft?

For the first time in a century, Saldomar was shocked beyond words. Why hadn't he thought of that?

You seriously didn't explore the cave while I was gone? Don't they teach mages anything?

Saldomar could have kicked himself. They did teach magii useful tricks like that but his brain was apparently not working at high gear. It had never even occurred to him to look for a back door.

Go to the back, behind the limestone pool where rainwater accumulates. There's a small opening that looks like just a niche, but if you go inside you can follow a narrow passage to where it opens up halfway up the cliff-face. The climb to the top will be tough with your precious cargo but doable. Now get going!

You want me to leave you to fight an army?

You've got a dragonet to protect, and I can handle myself. There's only so many that can come through at a time. I'll be fine. If I can, I'll catch up. If not…

He'd buckled on his belt and noted a purse, of blue-green leather, fastened to it. She winked, and fired another arrow. To help you on your way. Now, quit dawdling.

Saldomar had never felt so torn. This was obviously her battle, rather than his, and he certainly wanted no part of it. Nor did she seem in anyway concerned over her situation. However, leaving this woman he'd grown quite fond of to save his own hide rubbed him wrong. If it weren't for the scaly bundle of warmth in his arms, he might have stayed. But he had Weird and Cordalin was right. He could hardly fight properly with Weird in his arms.

Don't die, he offered and sprinted for the back, hoping no one would follow him—or, if they did, she'd dispatch them—he'd like to think the escape route could save her, too.

He found it easily enough, since her directions were clear, though it was not readily discovered. Clever girl! He tried to ignore the sound of sword play behind him, the screaming. At least, so far, it was all male screaming.

The rock passage was indeed narrow and he was grateful he was a slender man. More than once, he had to wiggle his way through and the surface was sharp. He'd likely have to repair his clothes again. When he came out, he was maybe ten strides up the cliff that rose behind another outcropping of rock that likely was the cave where she was fighting. He could still hear the melée. He looked beyond it and his heart turned cold.

There were at least a hundred men gathered around the entrance to the cave, their horses restive as men carried the fallen away and sent more in in waves. No way she could survive that. What to do?

The army seemed intent on their prey and there was no sign that anyone had noticed him. Weird, roused from herjostling, asked, The woman, is she in trouble?

I think she is, very serious trouble.

Wiser is concerned. What will you do?

Going back through the passageway seemed stupid. Best he could offer her was escape but even that was of limited use. What he needed was to help her escape while taking care of her pursuers.

You wanna do some magic, my pet?

Weird cocked her head to one side, apparently no more surprised that she was his familiar than he was. Sounds like fun.

That's my girl. Hop on to my shoulder and wrap your tail around my neck. I can move better that way. Try not to strangle me but use your talons as you need to. I don't want to lose you.

You won't.

Weird more conveniently configured, Saldomar scaled down the cliff face and scrambled across the jagged surface gingerly to the largest of the holes in the roof they'd used to let smoke free. As he suspected, she was beset on all sides. Her bow on her shoulder, her sword was a blur of silver slicing unerringly to her assailant's most vulnerable parts, as graceful as the dragonet queen he'd witnessed before and with as much chance of success. Inside, he began the incantation of major power, while his hands and mouth breathed a useful little spell he hoped would serve him as well today as it did when he was a lad. In response to his prompt, the coil of rope that rested near her supplies sprang to life and slithered along the floor before leaping up to the ceiling through the hole, Wiser clutched in its loops. The other end slid amongst those fighting Cordalin and encircled her waist before jerking her up and free of the battle, speeding toward that self-same hole. Grab the rope, Saldomar called and she did, just in time to come through the hole head-first, a tight fit even then. As soon as she was through, he set her on her feet. Do you have any arrows left? I'm going to need cover fire, because they'll be gunning for me now and I have magic to perform.

You trying to impress a girl? she said, arrow cocked already.

Nether, I'm impressing myself, he answered, awed by the raw power Weird added to his own massive store. As the Convocation of the Sea Leviathan reached conclusion, he summoned a beast of water, some fifteen strides high, to crush and destroy the army.

Those inside fired crossbow bolts through the hole but could not sight them. Those outside the cave could see them and took aim, but given the height some twenty strides above the level of the beach, the distance required to spot them was too far for accuracy. Well, for a crossbow. Cordalin's aim was better. Others, Saldomar knew, were scaling the outcrop, hoping to catch them hand to hand. But it was too late for them. The water that had retreated in response to his spell returned tenfold, a monster of water born to crush, to drown, and to drag the bodies back out to sea. The horses had sensed it and some had broken and escaped. The rest would not be so lucky.

Poor horses, Cordalin said. What a waste!

The screams of doomed men and their beasts were lost in the horrible roar of the sea's wrath. The rock beneath them shuddered and shook at the power of water that forced itself into the cave then reached with greedy fingers through the holes and along the sides. The sea could never be sated.

However, it accepted the offering of blood and slipped away to await its next summoning, or a time when the ocean itself unleashed it.

Well, Mage Saldomar. I am well and truly impressed. I did not expect anything like that of mortal man.

He probably did count as a mortal man, but only barely. However, that wasn't the important part. What did you do to have the King's army sent after you?

Oh. That. I murdered the king's heir.

You murdered the king's heir? Saldomar demanded. Why would you do something like that?

The king is a usurper and nears death from diseases of sex. With the heir out of the way, the rightful king can come out of hiding and take his place.

"You assassinated him?"

The heir was a letch of similar character so he was easy to seduce. She sheathed her sword and winked. He liked them young, that bastard.

Her lovely face was nicked with just-missed sword swings. Bruises and more nicks covered her arms. One shoulder of her tunic hung free in a way that might have been enticing if Saldomar were not in a rage. He grabbed her shoulders. How could you be so reckless, risking yourself with a child predator?

"It's not like I let him have me. Please, I have standards. I killed him first. Her tone was flippant but she looked him squarely in the eye. You're hurting me. Let go."

He released her at once with a muttered apology.

She ignored him and stared at her own wounds. Bastet take it, I'm covered with bruises and they show so easily. How embarrassing.

Are you listening to me?Saldomar gestured to the carnage below. You had a whole army after you!

It was a small one.

It was large enough.

Yeah, he really went all out. Who knew he'd give a damn about that whelp.

Do you understand your danger? What would you have done if I had not intervened?

Again her gaze was direct. "My best. That army might have killed me, but not easily and they were all loyalists to the current usurper. Now there are fewer to stand against the rightful king. I chose to take this assignment, just like I chose to take the risk and chose to distract myself with a near-dead man and an intriguing dragonet egg. Please! and she stopped him before he could protest or offer apologies. That's not blame. I chose every