Rapture's Etesian (4 page)

“Well, we were going to try, but I imagine once they found out who he was, they’d have declined the deal,” Ophelia supplied. “We would have been forced to let him go.” She grinned. “Although I wish we could have kept that cock of his!”

“Oh, I bet the Amazeen would have bought him. If not them, then the Hell Hags would have. The witches would have bought him just to parade him naked before their Tribunals. He would have brought a clutch of gold sovereigns,” Erinyes grumbled.

“I disagree,” Haidee said. “I don’t think either the Amazeen or the Daughters of the Night would want to take a chance of having Lord Konan Krull come after them.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Erinyes scoffed.

“You had better hope he is too ashamed to report this to the Venturian High Council,” Kynthia told them. “We’ve already made a bad enemy of this man and if…” She slapped a hand to her mouth. “The sentries!”

Galatea shrugged. “I left word they were to let him pass unchallenged if he came riding out on his own.” She yawned again then turned to go back to her bedroom. “I figured you’d be stupid enough to let that prime specimen go.”

Ophelia went to the window and looked out. She chuckled. “I hate to tell you this but he’s taking your horse, Kynni.”

The women rushed to the window in time to see the warrior racing from the stables. When he glanced back over his shoulder and saw them, he gave them a one-finger salute that brought a gasp to Erinyes’ lips and a hoot of laughter to Galatea.

“I like that man,” the older woman giggled. “He’s got balls of steel dangling on him.”

“That’s my horse!” Kynthia groaned. “That’s my baby!”

“Well,” Galatea said with a shrug. “Go after him and get your baby back.” She slapped her niece on the shoulder and walked off.

“That’s my horse,” Kynthia whined.

“Did you see what he did?” Erinyes snapped.

Celadina nodded. “Aye, but I’d have done the same.” She wrapped her arm around her sister. “Let it go, Eri. We’ve seen the last of him.”

Her sisters gone, Kynthia stood in the center of the room, the badge of Leksi Helios’ office lying in her palm, and bemoaned the theft of her beloved Rysalian stallion. She’d raised the beast since birth and he was like the child she’d never have.

“He stole my horse,” she said. “The bastard stole my horse!”

“Then get him back!” her aunt yelled before slamming shut the door to her bedroom.

Looking down at the medallion in her hand, Kynthia closed her fingers over the cool metal. “Aye,” she said, gripping the badge until the edges pressed painfully into her fingers and the heel of her hand. “You’d better believe I’ll get my baby back!”

Chapter Three

Leksi flew past the sentries, expecting them to try to stop him, but other than a curious look, they ignored his passing. He craned his neck around to make sure no arrow or quarrel was aimed at his back but the sentries were huddled around their fire, cups in their hands. Their negligence added further fuel to the anger invading the warrior’s gut, but at least one good thing had come of that wicked night—the stallion beneath him.

The beast upon which he was straddled was as fleet as the wind rushing through Leksi’s hair. Sleek muscles bunched and stretched as the large gray stallion raced through the night. His gait was even, his willingness to allow a strange rider upon his back a relief. Even without the benefit of a saddle, the beast gave a very comfortable ride. A blanket would have been better than only the broad bare back, but Leksi had not wanted to waste time in finding one.

“A Rysalian stallion,” Leksi said to himself as the horse churned up the miles separating them from the Mad Rapists, as the warrior had labeled them. Perhaps not adequate compensation for all he had suffered at the women’s hands but a prize he had no intention of returning, even if a man—or woman’s—horse was oft their most valued possession.

The stallion was a rare prize, indeed. Without doubt from superior stock, well-trained, well cared for, the beast was a veritable gift from the Prophet this ill-fated night.

“And he belonged to you, didn’t he, Kynthia?” he yelled aloud. “Well, he’s mine now, bitch!”

He would never forget the names of any of the women, but two he would brand into his memory like battle scars—Celadina, who had been the first to savage him and Kynthia, who had not even considered him worthy of an Amazeen’s purse.

A frown hovered over Leksi’s face.

“Why didn’t you think me worthy?” he wondered.

To be cast aside by a woman did not set well with the Venturian warrior. He’d never been turned down before. The insult grew worse with every mile over which the magnificent beast sped. By the time he cleared the gate at Tasjorn, the capital of the Ventura Province, his anger was a sharp prod that pricked not only his ego but his heart as well.

* * * * *

Kratos watched his friend as Leksi pushed his food around on the plate—piling it first to one side then scraping it across to the other to mound it there before returning it to its starting point only to begin the process again.

Leaning back in his chair, the older warrior folded his arms and studied the man who—though much younger—was Kratos’ superior. Strangely quiet for over a week now, hardly any appetite to speak of, a dark, and the brooding gleam in his eye were all signs Leksi Helios had something on his mind. It was only a matter of time before the Captain of the Venturian Guard scraped up the courage to broach the matter with his old friend.

Leksi glanced up, looked down, and then glanced up again. Kratos was staring at him. “What?” he asked.

Kratos raised a bushy brow but remained silent.

Giving up on the fare that had grown tasteless over the past few days, Leksi dropped his fork and wiped his mouth on his napkin although no food had passed his lips during the evening meal. He swiped up his tankard of mead and finished off what was left. He looked at Kratos as he put down the tankard. “I’ve a question for you, Kratos,” he said.

Kratos nodded but did not reply.

“How do you…?” Leksi began then stopped to clear his throat. He tried again. “How do you know when a woman is bothering you?”

A second bushy brow shot up then lowered to a mystified slash across the deeply lined forehead of the sixty-year-old Viragonian warrior. “You have a woman bothering you, boy?” he asked in his gruff voice.

Leksi threw out a negligent hand. “Maybe,” he replied.

“Define bothering.”

Leksi blushed. “You know—annoying the hell out of me.”

“Have you asked her to cease?”

The blush deepened. “I’ve not seen her in several days, but that hasn’t stopped thoughts of her from plaguing me!”

Kratos said nothing for a moment then reached up to scratch his weathered cheek. The rasp of his fingers against a beard already thick despite a close morning shave sounded like sandpaper against wood.

“Well, it’s been a long time since thoughts of a woman have plagued me but let me see if I can remember,” Kratos answered at last.

Leksi leaned forward. His respect for Kratos Hesar rivaled only that he bore for Konan Krull, the Lord High Commander of the Venturian Forces.

“You think about her all the time,” Kratos stated. “Can’t get her out of your mind.” He waited as Leksi nodded then told him to go on.

“You can’t eat,” the older warrior said, and looked down at the food on his friend’s plate. He ran a gnarled sword hand through his thick crop of short salt and pepper hair. “You don’t sleep all that well if at all.”

Leksi frowned. “Aye, hardly at all.” He motioned the tavern maid to bring them each another tankard of mead, but Kratos waved off the offer of another for himself.

“Where was I?” Kratos asked. “Oh, yes. Everywhere you look, you see her face.”

“Aye,” the younger warrior said in a miserable tone of voice. “In the water, in the clouds, even in the damned mirages floating over the sands!”

“She pretty?”

“Glorious,” Leksi replied. He slumped in his chair. “With eyes the color of molten steel and hair like freshly minted silver.”

“Silver?” Kratos challenged, his head snapping back at though he’d been struck. “How old is this woman, boy?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know,” Leksi answered. “Twenty-four or so.”

“And already her hair is gray?”

Leksi shook his head. “Not gray, Kratos, but silver—a rich, gleaming shade unlike any I’ve ever seen. Unbound, I’d wager it would touch her hips.”

Kratos frowned. “I’ve heard of women who have had something tragic happen to them and their hair turned white, but silver?”

“I have a notion something evil might well have happened to her,” Leksi agreed. “And that evil was most likely perpetrated by some shithead man.”

“Um. Go on. Describe her for me.”

“She’s not too tall but tall enough.” He held a hand level with his chin. “Up to here, I’d say. Slender with delicate hands.” He smiled. “And the cutest little toes a man could suck on all day.” He ducked his head. “Or so I would imagine. I didn’t see them but her boots were small.”

Kratos’ face crinkled with amusement. “Is that so?”

Leksi continued without looking up. “She has high cheekbones, long eyelashes, a mouth the color of plump, ripe cherries.” His face turned dreamy. “A long, swan-like neck, creamy shoulders and a small waist I wager I could span with both hands.” He put his hands together to illustrate the size. “Broad hips well-suited for birthing many strong sons and pretty daughters.”

“Really?” the older man encouraged, his lips twitching.

“Aye, and long, shapely legs made to wrap around a man’s neck and…” Leksi stopped, his face flaming as crimson as the cherry lips he had just described.

“And is this paragon of beauty as bothered by you as you are by her?” Kratos inquired.

Leksi’s shoulders slumped. “Aye, well, that’s just it. She isn’t.”

“Leading you on, is she? Swishing her ass at you, smiling coyly then flitting away.”

“Not exactly.”

“Rubbing up against you as she passes?
Accidentally
touching you so you’ll respond by touching back?”

“No,” Leksi sighed. “I’ve never so much as laid a hand to her.”

“Is she already taken, then?”

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head. “No, I know not. She says she doesn’t want a man.”

The tavern maid brought a fresh tankard to their table and apologized for the delay, citing the crush of patrons for the evening. When she left them, Kratos asked his companion if the silver-haired woman was even aware of his existence.

“Aye, but she wants nothing to do with me,” Leksi answered.

“Not enamored of your sweet little body, eh?” Kratos chuckled. When his friend looked up and shot him a warning look, the older man held up a hand. “What is this lovely one’s name?”

“Kynthia,” Leksi muttered.

Kratos’ brows shot upward again. “Well, well, well,” Kratos stated in a singsong voice. “So it is to be a pale moon to your blazing sun. I find that interesting. The gods are up to their old tricks, huh?”

Leksi thought about it a moment. “Her name means pale moon?” At Kratos’ nod, he sighed. “Aye, well she has the color of the moon with those eyes and that wondrous hair.”

“So where did you meet this lovely lady?”

Leksi glanced away. “About.”

“About,” Kratos stated. “Were you introduced to her?”

“Not exactly,” Leksi said. “Her aunt took me to meet her.”

“Perhaps you could speak with her family then, and—”

“
No, hell I can’t!
”
Leksi shouted, drawing the attention of the others in the tavern. He lowered his voice though his tone was sharp and insistent. “I cannot!”

“You want me to?”

Leksi snorted. “Only if you don’t mind winding up being sold to the Amazeen,” he replied.

Kratos stared at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve become besotted by one of those vicious bitches!”

“No, no, no!” Leksi said, once more waving his hand in dismissal.

“She lives near the Amazeen, then?”

Leksi looked down. “Not far from their lands,” he replied.

“Close enough for the Amazeen to be a concern, eh?”

“Aye.”

The two men were silent for a few moments then Kratos scratched his beard again. “Well, you could always woo her.”

Leksi looked up. “Woo her?”

Kratos rolled his eyes. “It means to court her, boy.”

“I know what it means!” Leksi held out a palm toward his friend. “Woo her how?”

“Do you wish to woo her?”

Leksi groaned. “Aye, Kratos. I wish to woo her. I would like this woman as my life-mate. But how do I do this?”

“You woo her with flowers and sweets,” Kratos replied. “A pretty bauble or two for her neck or arm.”

Leksi snorted. “She’s not a flowers and sweets kind of woman and I saw no adornment on her save…” He winced.

“Save?” Kratos encouraged, sitting forward.

“A leather gauntlet,” Leksi answered in a low voice.

Kratos settled back in his chair, his mouth open. “She’s a warrioress?” he asked after a moment of stunned silence.