A Stolen Crown (3 page)

The next day, the snow began to fall again and they soon realized it was likely they would have to spend the winter in their mountain cave but decided, given the circumstances, that it was not such a bad thing. Aaron and Ariana discovered that they very much enjoyed each other’s company and would sit talking for many hours. She taught him of the various social and political nuances behind the formalities of the royal courts and he taught her about life in the woods and how to use a sword properly. They learned from each other and shared a deepening friendship and the winter wore on.

Aaron’s headaches grew more severe but seemed to occur less frequently. After every attack, he noticed a few more things that had never been clear to him. If he concentrated, he was able to see a kind of energy in the living things around him, remembering now that he had done so when he had healed Ariana, but now it did not hurt so much to do it. Even the trees, frozen by the cold, carried a faint glimmer of power. The sun burned its customary bright yellow and Aaron could feel its power fill him when he stood in its light. Even the fire in the cave was a source of energy. Strangely, Aaron found that he could push and pull the flames of the fire. The first time he tried it, he had been reaching out with his hand and a tiny orange tongue had licked the ends of his fingers. Aaron began experimenting with this newfound trick and he decided to play a little joke on Ariana.

One afternoon, while the Princess was putting another log on the fire, Aaron used his power to push a tiny, flickering finger of fire onto the log she was holding. He was sure he would only move the smallest amount of flame and he had practiced moving the fire all morning, but perhaps he was a little nervous, because he accidentally pushed it a little too hard and the flames roared to life on the log. Ariana snatched her hand back instinctively at the sudden blaze and dropped the log as it was quickly covered in flame. The tiny white hairs on her arm were singed and the air in the cave smelled like burnt hair for the rest of the evening. Aaron apologised to her several times but she did not seem to care that it was an accident. She was very angry and did not speak to him for the next two days.

Finally, once she had gotten over it, she asked him how he had managed to use his power without losing consciousness. Aaron told her he was not sure, but that ever since the meeting with Calthas, he found he was able to sense things a little differently and, if he was careful not to try too hard, he felt like he could do a few things. Ariana decided Aaron should learn what he could about using his power so she started to teach him whatever she could, hoping if he released some of that energy that was building up inside him, even a little at a time, it might help him avoid he painful headaches that seemed to be plaguing him more and more.

Ariana awoke one morning to the cheery sound of the fire crackling and the smell of oats steaming near the fire. Aaron’s place in bed was empty and she searched in shadows for him. He was nowhere to be found. She rose, dressed herself and took some of the oats in one of the wooden bowls she had carved. They were just the right temperature and she guessed that Aaron had left them near the fire to keep warm for her. She tried a spoonful and was delighted by a sweet, fruity taste as she bit into a chunk of what tasted like apple. Where had he found that, she wondered? Aaron was always finding some interesting herbs or tubers to add to their food. His woodcraft far surpassed his own though she supposed he had an advantage having been raised in the country.

She walked with her bowl to the entrance and looked out in through the grey and white of the snowy day. His tracks sunk deep in last night’s snowfall and were already being filled in by the flakes of the day. He must have gone very early, she guessed. No matter. Aaron often disappeared in the mornings, only to return mysteriously, and always in time for a midday meal. She decided that she might as well try to resurrect some of his clothes. When she went to gather her thread and needles, she noticed that a needle was missing along with a spool of white thread. It did not matter all that much since she needed green thread for this task but she did wonder what Aaron would need with a needle and thread. He really was quite useless at repairing his clothing. If it were not for Ariana, his shirts would probably fall right off his back from all the wear he gave them. A while after, she heard the crunch of footsteps approaching the cavern and Aaron appeared, carrying something.

“What have you got there?” she asked. Aaron proudly held up his arm.

“Fish, your highness,” he said with a deep bow, teasing her with her title. “Only the freshest and finest catch for her royal majesty on this fine Midwinter’s eve.” She shot a suspicious look at him and Aaron immediately knew he was in trouble for something.

“Is that where my needle and thread went?” she asked. Aaron raised an eyebrow and dug into his shirt pocket. He produced the spool of heavy thread, along with the needle, which was now bent into the shape of a hook. She frowned at him.

“I can bend it back,” Aaron assured her. “I wanted to get something different for us to eat. It’s midwinter's day today.” Ariana smiled. That explained why he had put the fruit in her breakfast, and even though he had pilfered one of her sewing needles, she was looking forward to eating something other than horsemeat.

“Its a sweet thought," she said. "Thank you. Where did you find a stream?”

“There's a lake,” he told her as he pulled off his boots, which were caked with snow and ice. “Its pretty far down, at the bottom of the valley. I found an animal path that led down to it. The trail is fairly clear, and I found some tracks on it too. I’ll have to take a bow and some arrows next time.” He grinned, pleased with himself. Ariana smiled back at him and found herself enjoying what, to her, were such simple pleasures, things she imagined had simply been part of every day life for him, not so long ago.

That night, after they had eaten their fill of the day’s catch, the two of them sat together, basking in the warm glow of the fire. The wood hissed and popped as a few bits of snow melted off of the logs and as they burned through, the coals glowed deep red, throwing heat into the cave. Neither of them said much. It was like that a lot, just the two of them, comfortable in each other's company. Ariana looked over at Aaron.

He didn’t notice her gaze as he stared at the flames. His eyes reflected the orange and red of the fire, the flames dancing atop the black centers and the deep blue. She had noticed a change in his eyes as time wore on. They had been lighter in color when she had first met him, but it seemed that they had darkened and there was a kind of unnatural shine to them that was more noticeable either when he was suffering one of his headaches, or when he was trying to practice working some magic. Lately, they seemed to look like that all the time. Ariana knew that was one of the marks of a mage and she had expected to see a few differences in her own features as her power grew, but she wondered about his strength and how much the ward that still plagued him was holding back his power.

She put such thoughts aside, choosing instead to relax and enjoy the moment. It was at times like these when Ariana was almost glad to be stranded with him. He constantly tried to amuse her with foolish jokes or stories that she had now heard several times each. Most of the time, his efforts brought a smile to her face, but sometimes, he drove her crazy. Still, she knew he always meant well and, even though she remained troubled by what had happened, she felt safe with him. When they had first met, she had thought him to be young, naive and too gentle to be a soldier but, from seeing him defend her and from watching the way he handled himself in the forest, she had come to appreciate his underlying strength. On thing she hadn’t told him was how, when he fell to his attacks, Aaron was often reduced to the state of a sobbing child as he clutched his head, barely conscious. Luckily, he always lost coherence before then and it was only in his sleep that he cried. She never spoke to him of it but she wished that things had been better for him and that there might be some solution to his problem. In the meantime, she would hold him until the pain was gone and let him sleep peacefully for a time.

Sometimes, when he in and out of consciousness or recovering from one of his headaches, Aaron would sometimes mumble about something being taken away, but when Ariana tried to use her power to reach into his thoughts to discover what it was, she could find nothing, except memories of Tarnath, a man whose face she felt like she recognized from her own distant memories. Even though he did not speak of it, she thought Aaron must still feel the loss of his uncle. He had no family, few friends, no home, and none of it had been by choice.

In a way, they were much the same. The only family she really knew was her uncle, and after this last attack, she was fairly sure he was the one who had been trying to have her killed. She wondered where she and Aaron might go once the snows had melted. No doubt Cerric would not simply allow her to walk right back into the palace, now that she was out of the way, or at least that's what he probably believed. It was more than likely he would make things very difficult if he knew she was alive. Ariana realized that she probably did not have many allies within the Maramyrian nobility and she thought about her mother's family, a people whom she had never met and probably never would. They were powerful, and royalty in their own right, but they had cast out Ariana's mother for having married King Gregor of Maramyr, the ruler of a country they considered lesser and unworthy of their respect. It was unlikely she would receive any help from them. Ariana might be a princess and the heir to the throne of Maramyr, but as it stood now, she was alone in the world, just like Aaron. But at least they had each other.

Winter had come to Xalla as well, but only a light layer of snow had fallen in the capital of Xalla-prime. Calexis hated the cold but enjoyed having the power to order it banished from her palace. Great fires were stoked in every room and the mage-priests had cast a spell to keep in the warm air while ensuring that the smoke from the fires did not filter back into the palace. Calexis lounged naked in her bed and lying on her stomach, with several papers spread out before her. In one hand, she held a jewelled dagger with which she cut the wax seal of king Cerric of Maramyr.

His message had come by rider and, given the time it took even the fastest horse to travel such a distance, it must have left Maramyr some time before his coronation. Her agents had informed her it was to have taken place several days ago. She smiled toothily as she thought of how sure Cerric was of himself, how confident and how conniving. Her meetings with him during her visit had show him to be something of a kindred spirit and she enjoyed the mental games they had played with one another while negotiating various treaties between the two nations. Cerric would prove an interesting ally if things went as planned, she thought, and continued reading the letter. She skipped past the usual greetings, found her way to the main thrust of the of the note and what she read brought a wide smile to her face.

Cerric was proposing marriage, and he wanted an heir as well. An interesting proposal, she thought. Calexis had spent great lengths of time contemplating the best way to conquer Maramyr, a fertile land of rich farmlands and forest as well as lakes and streams that would make an excellent addition to her own domain. However, as much as she had endeavored to convince them, the mage-priests, while useful in many ways, would not agree to assist her in mounting a campaign against Maramyr. They claimed that all the mage-priests now followed a higher purpose and would not directly embroil themselves in such a conflict, especially since they had so many believers living in Cerric's lands. But this proposal would make things so much easier. Calexis was almost shocked by the simple elegance of it. She would have to investigate Maramyrian law and custom in depth but the thought of inheriting the west through a simple ceremony almost made her laugh.

A quiet knock on the heavy wooden doors alerted her attention and she folded Cerric's letter then placed it on the small table next to her bed. She stretched, catlike, then settled back to the cushion with her chin resting on her hands.

“Enter,” she called out.

The large doors opened and a young mage in the black robes of the Priesthood entered. Following him were two great reptilian creatures, their cloaked upright figures visible in the light of Calexis’ bedchamber. Calexis cocked her head to the side as they crossed the great room to halt at its center. The guards pulled the great door shut and Calexis pulled a small cord at the foot of her bed that activated a security mechanism that had been installed in the room. She heard a heavy bold snap into place, locking the room. Not that anyone would dare, but she did not want any interruptions.

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked the mage, feigning outrage at his intrusion. She did not remember his name, nor did she care.

“Your highness. These are the two Darga that your majesty had requested,” the young man stammered. The mage-priests all looked the same to her, and she found most of them to be arrogant and self-assured, but she could tell that this one was very nervous in her presence. Her agents had selected him for this very reason, that he would be more pliable to the queen's will than the higher-ranking among his brethren. Calexis raised an eyebrow.

“Yes mage, I can see that, but I have a rule about garments in my chamber. I should think my steward would have made it quite clear.”

“He did, your majesty, but I thought it might be wise to cloak them, considering the appearance of our, um, Darga friends, that they might be less intimidating to the palace guard,” the mage explained. Calexis looked at the two Darga who stood quietly sniffing the different smells in the queen’s chamber.

“Perhaps the guard might be intimidated," she said, “but now they are here. Garments, off.” She pointed a finger at the mage. “That goes for you too, mage.”

The Darga that stood to her left reached up a large hand covered with fine reptilian scales and thick sharp claws and tore away the loose black cloth that covered him. The other did the same without hesitation, exposing a heavily muscled reptilian body that impressed the Xallan Queen. Moving more slowly, the mage self-consciously let his robes fall to the floor as well. The Darga with the brown scales glanced at the mage’s wispy frame and snorted a laugh.

“The human is small,” he growled, smiling a long row of razor sharp teeth beneath his reptilian snout. The other Darga turned to look and the young mage put his hands on his hips and straightened up with his skinny chest held high. He was about to voice his objections when he noticed that the two Darga were not commenting on his physical stature, but were staring below his waist.

“Very small," growled the Darga with the black scales. “Poor little wizard.”

The two Darga laughed as they unbuckled their leather armor and the remainder of the rough cloth coverings they wore, letting them fall heavily to the floor.

“Enough!” Calexis snapped and the Darga both turned to regard her with a low growl. She pointed at a soft velvet chair by a table at the wall. There was a decanter and a glass set out. “Mage, you will sit there. I assume you are able to discipline our friends should they upset me?” The mage nodded as he gladly retreated to the chair and poured himself a measure of wine. Calexis turned back to the two Darga.

“You would not upset me would you?” she asked the two reptilian men.

“No, Queen. I am Gortak Darga, leader of Black Darga. Black Darga is ally to Xallan Queen. You give us many to feast upon and Black Darga gives thanks,” said the one to her left. Calexis looked to the other Darga. She noticed that while Gortak’s scaled hide was a mottled grey-green with black scales, the other one was similar but with dark brown scales.

“I am Razak Darga, leader of Brown Darga. Brown Darga is also ally to Xallan Queen. Thanks be to her for much feasting. Brown Darga and Razak Darga pleased to help Xallan Queen,” he said.

Calexis smiled and nodded, wondering whether she would need the mage at all. Still, she thought it best that she not command them to eat the robeless mage-priest, though she suspected they would likely enjoy nothing less.

“Do you like it here, Razak?” Calexis asked.

“Yes, Queen, very much.”

“And you, Gortak? What do you think of my palace?” The Darga glanced around the room, heavy breaths coming from his thin reptilian nostrils.

“Queen’s palace is warm. Good for Darga,” he said. “Darga not like cold.”

Calexis could almost see the Darga leaning forward.

“I am glad for you, Gortak, and for you, Razak.” She smiled. “You have been summoned here for a reason. I have been told that you both are the greatest of all Darga, that you are the leaders of the two most powerful Darga tribes. Is this true?” She let her eyes wander over the heavy bulk and coarsing muscles of the man-like reptiles. How human looking they were in certain ways, yet how very much more. Gortak stepped forward.

“Black Darga is proudest of Darga. Strongest.”

Razak snapped his head to look at the other Darga, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and jealousy. Calexis nodded at Razak. The black Darga were said to be larger than the brown, but not by much. The brown were also said to be more intelligent.

“And the Brown Darga is said to be very clever,” Calexis said to Razak, whose hungry reptilian gaze returned to the naked queen.

“Yes queen. Brown Darga is clever and strong,” he said and growled at Gortak.

Calexis held up her hand.

“You are both mighty warriors and leaders to your people,” she said, “but you fight with each other. The Black Darga and the Brown Darga do not cooperate. They do not share.” Both Darga stood silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. Calexis spared them the effort. “Today, the Darga will learn to share.”

Calexis put her hands into the cushion of the bed and pushed herself upright. Her movement put her scent in the air and both Darga drew in great breaths with the noticeable increase in the arousal they had detected when they had entered the room.

“Come to me, Darga, both of you,” she said.

The young mage-priest who had been sipping from his cup at the small table nearly choked as he took a swallow of the strong wine. He grimaced, wide-eyed, as the drink passed the lump in his throat. Calexis caught his reaction from the corner of her eye and she smiled at him briefly as the two Darga hungrily approached her bedside.

Through the restraint spell he had cast on the Darga should they prove troublesome, the mage-priest could sense their thoughts. He had worked on the spell for days because Darga were surprisingly resistant to magic and he wanted to be sure that he could stop them from doing anything that displeased the queen or might put her in danger. Darga were rumored to eat people and it would not do for them to mistake the queen for a meal, but through the magical link he had created the young mage could see that the things going through the minds of the two lizard-men were not on feeding, but something else altogether.

At first, he thought about stopping them, but he realized they were doing exactly as Calexis intended, and the young mage priest was not about to go against the will of the Xallan Queen. He stepped away from the scene and poured more wine into his cup, fighting the urge to run from the room in horror as the magical link he had created forced him to experience every lascivious thought running through the minds of the two Darga as they indulged their animalistic lust with the woman.

*****

Calexis did not leave her bedchamber for several days but quiet whispers worked their way around the Imperial Palace among those either brave or foolish enough to dare even speak of what had transpired that night. Those who worked at the palace and knew of their queen’s appetite for men were accustomed to dealing with the sounds of her usual form of entertainment, but something had gone on in the queen’s bedchamber and now it seemed something serious was happening to her. The woman who tended to the queen’s washing was said to have fainted when her large washbasin ran red with blood from the queen's bed sheets.

In truth, the young mage priest who had accompanied the Darga into Calexis’ bedchamber later became gravely concerned for her life. Even though he had little experience of such things, he could only described what he saw that night as brutal and animalistic, beyond what he thought possible for the human body to endure. He was surprised when, the few times he tried to intervene, the queen ordered him not to. She was determined to carry out her experiment and it almost seemed as though she derived a great deal of pleasure from it.

When the two reptilian men finished with her and were ushered out of the room, the young mage was shocked at the sight of the queen. She lay upon the bed, dazed, senseless, and bleeding in so many places, bitten, scratched and bruised. He would have thought to punish or even kill the Darga except for the exhausted smile on the queen’s bruised lips. The young mage ordered warm water and fresh bedding and set about using his magic to heal the worst of Calexis’ injuries. When he placed his hand on her forehead and touched her with his magic he discovered something that made his heart nearly stop beating.

Unsure at first, he felt with his magic then with his physical senses. Calexis was swollen in many ways to be sure, but the mage chastefully felt her breasts and found that they were hot and had become noticeably larger, fuller. The skin on their sides felt unnatural, both smooth and rough to the touch, and he felt what was the growth of very fine scales beginning to appear and running down from them along her sides. More surprising, even the mild pressure of his hand on her breast caused her nipples to run with milk that ran down from her chest and ran off the sides of her belly, which now seemed to protrude from her abdomen. Worried that she might have som kind of bruising, but more concerned about the reason she had invited the Darga to her bed, he ran his hand down to her stomach and called forth his power, gently probing looking for signs of what he feared. There, he felt it, but he could not see it clearly. His power was being muted somehow, probably related to the Darga's innate ability to repel certain kinds of magic. From what he could tell, new life was already growing inside her, and much like Darga childbearing, the gestation had taken hold and was happening very quickly. The further shocking side effect was that the reptilian nature of the pregnancy was somehow mixing with Calexis’ own humanity and causing such changes in her, and it was happening quickly.

The mage debated whether he should call on some of his brethren mage priests, but none of them were as experienced at healing as he was, nor were they as familiar with the nature of the Darga. He had made the reptilians a course of study over the last several years. What worried him was that the Darga birth cycle lasted mere weeks instead of seasons and that the average Darga was nearly full grown within a few short months of being born. He shuddered to think of how Calexis’ fragile human body would endure such a rapid pregnancy, especially after how brutally she had already been treated, but his fears were allayed somewhat with the further physical changes he saw taking place in her.