Chapter One
Book Two
1/
The first rays of the dawn had barely reached the castle before the town below its walls was instantly awake with movement. Shop owners scurried to the market where covered tables bloomed open like flowers, rippling slightly in the dewy breezes. Past the market and the village were the farms where activity had begun as well. Summer had finally come and the spring planting was over. Once again the yearly-made irrigation systems branched out hovering over their appointed fields by Craft drawn from the Dreamers’ River. The water that flowed through those floating bamboo tubes was water from the Zoraina River. It was the only river in the land, and it neatly swept it’s way through the Serene countryside to every Territory and Tribe. The rooster calls echoed their way around the whole castle area, gently waking any late village sleepers.
Up in the south-most tower of the castle, Avaery paced slowly in her chambers. Once and a while she glanced at the dawning rays of sun, abbreviating her slow and steady walk. Her long midnight blue nightgown billowed around her ankles. Like small rivers, the beams of sunlight from the windows snaked over the plain-looking room. Over the solid oak side-desk and matching chair, traveling across the woolen rug, and up the summer-sky-blu
e painted, stone walls until it could flow no higher.
As well as being Valruuah’s governess, mentor, and escort Avaery was also a trusted advisor to King Graveis. Today a meeting was to be held about the rumors coursing the veins of Serene society gossip. Even the distant and inaccessible Territory of the Kochi children had heard the news of the outcast Gerudy man who wanted to avenge his father’s death. *But no this is no ordinary man and no ordinary challenge,* thought Avaery. In Serene Law, there was no law against murder, but a price could be asked to repay the debt. In the case of an unjust murder within the general population, the price asked could be another life, the murder’s life. Within the royal families of the Tribes, no such price could be asked, but a challenge could be made to have a battle between the avenger and the murderer. A battle to the death, according the Old Ways, before the civil War between the Tribes happened many, many years ago. And Graveis still believed much in the Old Ways. No such challenge had been made yet, but the meeting tomorrow was to decide the King’s course of action in case of its arrival.
But much shrouded this Gerudy man and his past. He went by many names and stole from many a place around the land; a thief, a warrior, and a rumored a magic-user as well. Only the Gerudy knew his true name, Gondrake. Only a first name existed, because it was customary for Gerudies to bypass acknowledging a surname. An outcast among his own people as well, but for what reason? He was one of very few Gerudy men left alive after the purge Empress Kunata-Chimora made to keep the Living Realm safe from history repeating itself. Only the weak, non-magic using males were given the gift of life, *and for good reason,* thought Avaery. It had been a Gerudy male, the then Emperor and a sorcerer, who had caused the devastating civil War between the Tribes. This new man was his son. No one in the land dared to even speak the father’s name, and very few remembered what it had been, because it had been stripped from written history records. Ardunaze, if Avaery recalled correctly, had been his name. The same man who had been killed by Katrine in the War. Katrine, Serene’s great warrior Queen and Valruuah’s mother, had also died very mysteriously in the final battle of the Great War. A war to decide who should hold possession of the Orb, the mysterious object gifted with the Four Goddesses powers. It was also the only thing that kept the Living Realm connected to the Dreamers’ River and the magic that supported the people and was the life force of the land. Now a days, the Orb had disappeared from it’s home, the Temple of the Spirits. And while it was gone form sight, it wasn’t gone from the land totally, only from sight and stowed in the also very mysterious Tribal Stones. And so on and so forth, Avaery recited in her mind what her visions and Legends told her to be true, but some of this was actually helping her to decide what point-of-view to take on this issue. But what would be the deciding factor?
Another thought came to her mind. This Gondrake, if he was the son of Ardunaze, wouldn’t it be possible for him to be of magic? Only those strong of spirit could find their hidden link to the Dreamer’s River. For him to escape Empress Kunata’s purge would have to mean he had no such link when he had been deemed outcast, but . . . Could the need to avenge his father create the spiritual bond necessary to become a sorcerer? Yes, strong emotions and ambitions could definitely do that, she decided. Avaery raked her hand through her blond-gray hair and winced slightly when she caught a snag. Graveis himself was not of magic. He had been born the son of the Duke of the Midenville, a magic-less human town in the Western Mountains, and had married into the Royal Family. Even against a minimal magic user knowing only hearth-craft he would have some problems. But if Gondrake had more power, driven by his need for revenge, Graveis stood no chance. So she would have to go in and delicately bring her point of view to the meeting.
Avaery slowly dressed for her morning walk around the village. Throughout the day she knew would have to plan how to bring her point of view to the table. Oh, what a long day it just become.
* * *
2/
Funatoke tiptoed through a small patch of trees, and tied the two horses to an out-of the-way tree behind some brush. A bird cawed loudly in the tree above her. A hiss escaped her lips from under the gypsy mask she wore over the bottom half of her face. That sharp intake of breath finally revealed it to her that she was definitely a little jumpy.
Even though her reputation as a thief and assassin was well known throughout the land, her face was never revealed in any of her jobs. This made it particularly easy to slip from place to place without drawing attention to her. Today, she would be the traveling fortune gypsy, the next morn someone completely different. It was always this way, and no one ever linked her to Gondrake, the Prince of Thieves. She never understood why she felt nervous doing such a routine thing to her life. All they were doing was stealing some cheap armor from some rich boy’s shop. It was never as if she had killed some one on one of these trips. And yet . . .
Ever since before the Great War, Funatoke had lived alone with Gondrake in the countryside. He filled in some of the emptiness she felt after her mother had been murdered in the village raids. Those raids had been the building point to the beginning of the War. Her mother, Meiruuha, had been the target of the particular raid that had destroyed her home village on the outskirts of Melon. She remembered that horrific day all too well.
Funatoke had just come back from the village market when she saw members of raiding army leaving her thatch-roofed home. Quietly she crept behind the building, and entered form the rear only to find her mother barely alive. Knife wounds played a savage, bloody dance around her body, and her face was bruised from many critical blows. Before her final breathe, Meiruuha told her daughter to flee to the Gerudy Valley and handed her a pendant. “Hide it with great care, “ she had said. “One day, one of my people will recognize you as my daughter by it . . . Now go!” Crying as she went, Funatoke had mounted a mare and galloped off. From behind her she felt a powerful blast of magic come form the Dreamers’ River, and sped faster along the beaten trail to Melon. At her stop in the major city, she had learned that the Gerudy Valley was no longer a safe haven for newcomers, the Emperor, Ardunaze, was threatening war against the other Tribes for the possession of the fabled Orb.
She spent a year alone in the city, taking up contracts and learning the trade of an assassin. One time a dealer didn’t pay her, so she wove a death spell from the Dreamer’s River and killed him too, for the sport of it. She was 19 then. Three years after that, everyone in the back alleys knew to pay Funatoke in full before she set off for her jobs. During this time she also decided to make it her goal to find her mother’s people. She had known her father was Gerudy although she he had never been a part of her life, the bastard. But she did not look entirely Gerudy, and from her memories her mother had not been Gerudy at all. Satisfied with this decision and unsatisfied with the lack of work in the Western towns, she set off to the royal castle-town of Serene to find the answers. Along the two-day ride there, she met up with a handsome, fit man riding a black stallion. He introduced himself as Gondrake. They made camp together that night in the summer, and she shared her life story with him. In turn, he told her only that he was an outcast from his people, the Gerudy, for being his father’s son. She asked then who his father was. A scowl instantly came to his handsome features as he spat the name, Ardunaze. Instinct told her to back away, lust told her to come closer. She had to admit, that night she had been intrigued, but never had meant for what happened to happen. They made love that night, as they had the night before the present one, and at that moment she fell in love. From that night on, they lived together, stealing from only the rich and only taking what they needed to live on. They had lived through the War and the distrust between the Tribes that been the aftermath. She had even been there when news of his father’s death came to him. The funny thing was he celebrated with the rest of Serene upon hearing the news. It had always been like that; Gondrake had never shown any great regret or compassion toward his father. So then why was he avenging his father in this challenge? Funatoke pushed away the thought; way too many unanswered questions came with it. But, ah, what a glorious life together it had been until now.
Now Funatoke saw the differences between Gondrake and herself. He dreamed of one day of having power and to be equal with the other Gerudy, to make up for what had been taken away from him because of his father’s bloodline. She dreamt of finding her mother’s people. Sometimes these ambitions clashed and caused them to have arguments. During these little feuds, talking kindly to each other was unheard-of for several days. Even more disturbing to her, was in the past 50 years her physical appearance had remained the same, while Gondrake had aged well into his prime. Which meant they were aging at different rates. An average Gerudy would live about 200 years; it seemed to her she might live 500 or more. Which meant he’d be an old man before she reached her prime. Lastly, this affair with Aveilyruu, the Gerudy Princess, the monarch-in-waiting, had frayed the end of her nerves. It was one thing to secure their place back into the Tribe, but riding that bitch like a whore was not her idea of ‘being extremely persuasive’. *Oh well,* she thought. It had gotten them back into , and he had promised that Aveilyruu meant nothing to him but . . . There was always that fear, that doubt, that he was really in for something more that just Tribal rights. She just couldn’t shake it. Well no matter, after this Royal Challenge fiasco was over, they could take a little longer getting back the to Gerudy Valley than Gondrake planned. A nice, spontaneous, romantic detour would do them well after all the business that had to be taken care of first.
In the meantime, she would have to wait until around dusk anyway, while Gondrake took care of some business in Melon. After that they would part for a while, during which she would take care of some business of her own for Gondrake in Melon once again. That was something she did not particularly look forward to . . . But instead of worrying about the troubling, Funatoke let her mind daydream. Yes, they will have quite a nice time after their trip to the Castle.
* * *
3/
Gondrake strolled along the back alley where no one asked questions and were thankful if you just kept going and spared no glance.
Around the corner he went and off onto the main road. The first building on his right was the city Message Post House. The older-looking human clerk barely noticed the bells on the door jingle when a man entered the room. He was already waiting at the desk, when she turned away from her filing to what he wanted.
He was a Gerudy man in his prime. Unmistakable dark brown-red covered his head. His smooth skin was a dark tan; his almond-shaped eyes, hard gold. He was a man you could actually call beautiful.
It took her several seconds to realize he was holding out a letter for her register.
“Where is this letter to be delivered to sir?” she asked in a professional manner.
“It is a important message to the King. First class and rush delivery please,” he said in a deep voice that only fitted his appearance. The Gerudy accent was absent, and the clerk wondered if that peculiar cadence in his voice meant he had grown up somewhere near the western towns. The smile he gave her was crisp, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes unnerved her as she stamped the envelop with the royal seal. He turned to leave.
“Thanks and good day to you,” he called behind as he left the Post House.
Gondrake smiled again but this time the wicked smirk bloomed in full. The Royal Challenge was on its way.
* * *
4/
Funatoke listened closely as someone approached from behind her. Calling in her long double-edged knife, she breathed a sigh of relief when it was Gondrake who came into view. She grabbed a large rawhide bag off one of the horses and slung it over her shoulder. In silent agreement they left the horses in their get-a-way spot. The sun was just beginning to set as they set off toward the north side of town, the shopping district.
Into the town they crept, toward the smaller specialty shops where the rich shopped, and hid behind a corner. The sun was almost set when they came across a potential target, Brom and Bowery’s Blacksmith and Armory. All the other shops up and down that particular street were closed for the night. *Even better, * thought Funatoke.
“Come on, we’ll ‘shop’ here,” Gondrake whispered. “You know what to do.”
“See you soon.” Funatoke winked back to him as she went to the back alley. He on the other hand, stalked casually to the front entrance.
In the back alley she stealthily located the back entrance to the armor shop. From inside the rawhide bag, she pulled out a long, thin metal rod and an old rag covered in oily grease. She had cleverly put a shielding spell upon the rag so that it had not gotten the grease all over the other contents of the bag. The metal rod worked well to prick the lock. It was a simple pad-lock with gears, and it clicked open easily with Funatoke’s thieving skills put to use. Next, the greasy rag was swiped upon the rusty hinges of the door. Funatoke slowly turned the knob and pushed the door. A creak emerged into the crisp, now nighttime air. Funatoke quickly slipped through the open crack into the open shop. Upon entering, she shoved her gypsy’s clothe into the rusty hinges to silence the creaking door once again. From the back room she could hear dulled murmurs of idle chitchat. Gondrake was talking with the lone shopkeeper.
“So you ‘ave never shopped ‘ere before in Melon?” the shopkeeper sounded a bit wary.
“No I have not. I am alone on a trip to Midenville and will only be here tonight.” Gondrake sounded curt through the tarp hanging over the doorway between the backroom and the showrooms. Funatoke quietly rummaged the large bag for her quiver and bow. She also called in a large broadsword in its scabbard. Pretty soon she would get the signal to strike.
“Beautiful city, Midenville. It’s the known as the Northern City. Many of those ruddy village-born tourists visit there to see the widespread Shaki heritage there. Melon used to attract ‘em that way too, but recently the landowners decided to demolish the ole Shaki cabins. They want to ‘ave the city be more metropolitan, I think they calls it. Cement the roads for the carriages and such like that from the looks of it. They figure if that Tribe ‘as died out then why bother with their relics. To me, that’s plain ole guff. Surround yourself with history I always says. I won’t complain though’, all the rich guards an' landowners shop ‘ere and I’m making much more then what’s needed for just living. But enough a that, it’s getting late and the missus will be a’wantin’ me back home soon I’d wager. So what can I do for ya’ this time of night?” The shopkeeper relaxed and gave Gondrake a toothy grin. From the side of his eye Gondrake spotted what he had come here for.
“Oh, I’d think a silver breastplate would be suitable,” Gondrake sounded nonchalant. Hopefully this fool of a human shopkeeper wouldn’t realize the magical power within silver. If not, then summoning Funatoke early would not prove to be any inconvenience. Silver and rubies, when placed within the Dreamers’ River, contained a deep magic that only a Gerudy soul could reach. But silver was only mined in the mountains, which meant it was only available in the Western cities. To make matters worse, most of Serene’s supply of silver was destroyed in the Great War to keep the Gerudys from using its magic in large quantities.
The man suddenly tensed at his request.
“Silver ya’ say? Well, I don’t reckon I can sell you that with you being Gerudy and all? Let us take a look at some iron or copper.” The man’s voice was gruff.
“No silver’s what I want but if you won’t oblige . . . Now is time!” Gondrake suddenly yelled in an incredibly thick Gerudy accent.
Funatoke burst form behind the tarp-covered doorway, threw Gondrake his blade, and nocked an arrow in what seemed like a split-second to the shopkeeper. Funatoke pointed for his chest, and Gondrake had his sword by the hilt already. The shopkeeper froze as he walked deathly slow the desired breastplate. Something in his controlled stroll looked as if he was trying to hold back something terrible and feral from coming to the surface, thought the shopkeeper. The air felt smothering but not in the normal heated sort of way. No, it was cool in the shop, form the night air. Then why was he sweating? It was apparent now; if he wanted to survive he must call for help. There were city-employed guards patrolling the city every three blocks or so.
“Help! Help! Guards! Someone help me!” the shopkeeper screamed and almost instantly Gondrake was upon him, holding the sword blade to his throat.
“Make another sound and I’ll kill you,” Gondrake snarled. “Funatoke grab the armor, while I gag this bastard.” Funatoke stealthily snatched the armor plate and smashed the candles and lamps about the room. The only light to see by now was the streetlamp outside and the sliver of a moon creeping over the night sky.
“Now to finish him,” Gondrake drew his sword up intending to slice through the shopkeeper’s heart.
“Gondrake let him live. He was only protecting himself,” Funatoke pleaded, grasping the arm that held the deadly blade.
Gondrake withdrew but the savage look in his eyes made Funatoke want to flee. That look scared her shitless, and it was too feral, too cruel to be in the eyes of the man she loved. Funatoke stood shocked as Gondrake wove a memory charm around his human prey’s mind.
“Let’s go.” Gondrake’s trailing voice snapped her out of her cold, frightened daze. Funatoke strapped breastplate over her shoulder and found Gondrake in the lead with her rawhide bag.
After reaching the hidden horses at a quick run, they galloped off into the young night toward the castle-town of Serene. Soon they would double back south to confuse any followers. From there she would stop in Melon to work on a job Gondrake wanted done; he would continue south to where the Southwestern Desert met the mountains down into Gerudy territory. He would wait for her and whatever news that came with her there. Funatoke was very grateful for the time away from Gondrake for once. *None of this night matters,* thought Funatoke. *Not as long as we’re together. Not as long as we have life together.* But how quickly that life together would end.
To Be Continued in Chapter 2
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