Tales of Lorio: Daughter of Dust

TALES OF LORIO: DAUGHTER OF DUST

By

GEORGE STRAATMAN

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2018 George Straatman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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

Other Smashwords Titles by George Straatman

THE CONVERGING

THE CONVERGING: MARK OF THE DEMON

THE CONVERGING: CLOSURES IN BLOOD

JOURNEY THROUGH THE LAND OF SHADES

ABJECTION ALONG THE ROAD TO APOTHEOSIS (JOURNEY BOOK 2)

CIRCLE OF THE WITCH

THE CHAINS OF CAPITULATION (JOURNEY BOOK 3)

THE FINAL CONVERGING: AN IMMORTAL HEART ASUNDER

TALES OF LORIO AND ISSIDRIS: A PARTING OF WAYS

DEDICATION

I dedicate this novel to those who create worlds and populate them with characters who speak to us long after their tales have been told.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the influence that the tales of Arthur had had upon my creative life. They are an endless source of inspiration. I would also like to thank Lorio for manifesting in my creative worldscape as such a fully realized character. She has been a treasure trove of inspiration and has served as a clarifying lens through which I have come to see the enduring plight of women. Even after this latest tale…I’m may not quite be done with you yet old friend.

Chapter One:

1

The echo of hard leather soles slapping on stone echoed up the winding staircase, seemingly fading into infinity as the solitary woman made her descent into the bowels of castle Kammlogran. Though her step was light and graceful, it resounded up through the stone gullet like reverberating thunder. Air, damp and chilly, carried the news of her passage back up to the civilized portion of the mighty seat of Emercian power and the woman stole a longing glance back up the winding stone stairwell that evoked vivid images of a coiled serpent.

‘Considering the odious purpose the depths of Kammlogran once served...and for whom...my disquiet is not particularly surprising,’ the woman thought even as she absently drew the folds of her charcoal coloured cape tighter around her statuesque body. There had been a time, not so long past, when the darkened bowels of the Emercian seat of power had been the quintessential enclave of nightmare where a tyrant’s depravity was given full rein....where the most heinous acts of unimaginable evil were routinely conducted, accompanied by a litany of unheeded pleas for mercy.

That time had been consigned to memory, but the exceptionally perceptive woman could still hear those harrowing exhortations twisting through the chill darkness, like uneasy memories that would never be laid to rest.

This disturbing thought caused Queen Karosyn to shudder and she quickened her pace, suddenly anxious to conclude the unsavoury business that had drawn her to these seldom used recesses of her castle.

On many occasions, she had mulled over the idea of having these lower levels...where Myrhia had dabbled in the foulest of sorceries...permanently sealed. She had desisted, her hand stayed by the certitude that the evils of history could not be banished by sealing their tangible reminders away. On the contrary, humanity was far better served if its inherent imperfections and dark proclivities were laid bare before the harsh glare of public scrutiny.

It had been her late husband...her one enduring love even in death...who had fervently espoused this idea and she had embraced its wisdom unequivocally. Thoughts of Artumas...of his unflagging nobility and compassion...still possessed the power to lance her like the well-placed strike of a rapier. Though she had come to be generally regarded as the greatest monarch in Emercia’s long, celebrated history...indeed, the collective history of the Antiquated Lands...Karosyn still missed his counsel...his humble, yet sage manner.

‘If only you were here to advise me now, husband,’ she thought as a fresh wave of ambivalence assailed her like swarming insects. ‘How would you perceive what I am endeavouring to achieve in these lightless, wretched depths...with approval...disappointment? What I would not give to know your mind in this matter.’

Beset by this rare episode of self-doubt, Karosyn...normally a paragon of resolve, reached the bottom of the long stairwell. She waved an aristocratically slender right hand causing a golden light to coalesce around her finely-boned fingers and a massive section of black stone wall grated across the floor.

Inhaling deeply, she passed through the exposed archway and into the sprawling labyrinth of dimly lit corridors and vast chambers that stretched away, seemingly to the four points of the compass. After becoming the ruling monarch of Emercia upon the death of her husband, the Queen had allocated this space to be divided between her military and her cadre of engineers. She had done so with the strict provision that nothing would be developed in these infamous depths without her prior approval. She had also made it explicitly clear that her cadre of inventors would devote an equal portion of their creative efforts to the fabrication of instruments that would make the everyday lives of her subjects less...onerous.

Such was the high regard in which Karosyn was universally held that not once, in the thirty years since, had her provision been ignored or circumvented.

‘But with this undertaking, do I make a flagrant mockery of my own ideals?’ she wondered as she strode unerringly through the maze of corridors she seldom ever visited. ‘Can sly manipulation ever be rationalized as the tools of a benevolent ruler...even in the service of a well-suited purpose?’

uce a dozen different facile justifications of why it was, but in the cleft of her virtually pristine heart, the virtuous Karosyn was not so sure.

The disconcerting spectacle to which she was about to be treated would do little to alleviate her roiling misgivings.

2

Garum Tranan stared fixedly through the silver-hued, transparent curtain, a magical device that allowed watchers in the circular corridor to view the interior of the vast, spartan training chamber. Those labouring within the dimly lit chamber were not afforded the same courtesy, allowing their observers to assess their skills unseen.

The report of leather on stone drew the weapons master’s attention and he turned to see his Queen striding purposefully toward him. He stepped away from the perplexing magical device and offered his monarch a deep, deferential bow of genuine reverence.

Attired in a full length, hooded cloak with only a minimal amount of ornamentation, Karosyn was still a living portrait of royal poise and elegance. Hers was a timeless beauty that would entrance with but a single glance, though she seemed genuinely oblivious to the way in which she could beguile all who came into her presence.

Karosyn was a queen whose beauty, whose decorum and probity...inspired unwavering devotion in all who served her. Yet, as she approached on this day, Garum could see that, beneath her mantle of composure, his queen was uncharacteristically troubled. Party to the discussions of the Queen’s Tribunes, Garum was not aware of any concern that would arouse Karosyn’s rare episode of disquiet...though he quickly came to surmise that one of those reasons might stand on the opposite side of this baffling curtain of silver light.

The Queen waved Garum out of his posture of deference. She drew back her ermine-trimmed hood, her breath billowing in the damp air, and without preamble, inquired, Am I to conclude that this demonstration signifies that she is fully prepared for the task at hand?

I believe she is, your highness, Garum replied in his customary tacit fashion. Economy of speech was one of Garum Tranan’s defining qualities...the others being nearly unparalleled proficiency with every manner of conventional weaponry and a rare gift for imparting those gifts to others.

Though just shy of his sixtieth birthday, Garum possessed the grace and speed of a Suran dancer and the explosive power of a great hunting cat. Lithe and ramrod straight of spine, only the lines on his still handsome face and generous smattering of white in his black hair declared that this was a man in his later years.

When it came to the complex matter at hand, there was no living soul in whose opinion Queen Karosyn would place more stock.

As she shifted her incisive gaze from her weapons master to the solitary figure who stood motionless at the center of the vast training chamber, a rare frown twisted Karosyn’s generous mouth. With a note of rueful disapproval, she demanded, Why is she attired in that salacious garb?

Garum’s bemusement was clearly reflected on his angular face as he frowned and returned, "She has informed me that the rippling of loose fabric, though barely audible, adversely effects her environmental awareness...her sensory perception is how, I believe, she described it."

Karosyn raised a tapered eyebrow, clearly skeptical. You’re telling me that the ruffling of her clothing is discordant?

I know it seems scarcely credible, your highness, but this demonstration will lend credence to her contention. Her sense of hearing is...beyond extraordinary. He added, with a hint of incredulity, She also admits that her attire unsettles her opponents.

Shifting her gaze back to the solitary figure, the Queen allowed distantly, Of that, I have little doubt.

The pair fell silent as Karosyn scrutinized the eccentric and disconcerting woman with whom she may well have struck a devil’s bargain.

The woman was blond and diminutive in stature, attired in a clinging white garment that, while covering her from ankle to neck, conformed to the feminine contours of her muscular body like a second skin. Gifted with exceptional visual acuity, even at great distances, Karosyn could clearly see the woman’s prominent turgid nipples as the thin fabric melded to her full breasts like a lover’s ardent hand. The woman’s body exuded power, from the sweep of her heavily muscled thighs to the sculpted majesty of her square shoulders.

The living amalgam of power stood with her legs slightly parted and as Karosyn absorbed the astounding reality of her physique...a body wrought equally for pleasure or violent mayhem...the decorous queen noted that the cleft of her womanhood was clearly outlined through the taut fabric.

‘This creature is shameless and brazen,’ she thought, shifting her gaze back to the woman’s face, which was partially obscured by a heavy red blindfold that had been wound around her head and tightly knotted to prevent slippage.

Perturbed by the unsettled reaction this vexing creature stirred in her heart, Karosyn inquired, What is your assessment of this confounding woman?

Garum studied the still motionless creature, who filled him with a profound unease that was not so easily articulated. A pervasive aura of darkness seemed to hover over the unfathomable woman...and though he could not divine its precise form...it terrified him nonetheless. Karosyn could clearly discern his inner conflict when he asked quietly, May I speak freely, my Queen?

After these long years in my service, it pains me that you would even have to ask, Garum, Karosyn scolded, though her slight smile belied her reproving tone.

Garum’s apoplectic reaction caused the Queen’s smile to broaden as he stammered, I...I meant no disrespect, my Queen.

Karosyn laid a placating hand on his shoulder as her smile became a radiant grin that was breathtaking in the eyes of her bondsman. I jest, old friend. I would hear your mind without reservation or circumspection.

Despite this open invitation to candour, the naturally reserved Tranan was still reluctant to share his unbiased opinion of the perplexing anomaly, but sensing that his Queen required an honest evaluation, he forged ahead. Strictly in terms of her abilities, she is a physical marvel...an unprecedented wonder, possessed of an aptitude for unarmed combat that defies all reason. Here, he hesitated before sharing his concern. So astounding are her skills that I have come to suspect that they have been augmented...by sorcery.

He had given voice to this suspicion as if giving voice to the blackest of possibilities, which, when considering Emercia’s recent past, perhaps he was. Karosyn spoke unequivocally to assuage his concerns. I can tell you that...whatever skills and abilities this woman might possess, they are her own. She has not been enhanced by any manner of arcane device.

Having gained a thorough understanding of the incredible nature of the woman he served, Garum accepted this as an indisputable truth. This only makes her gifts all the more incredible because she is a living engine of perfect violence...

"I sense that there is an admonishing but, in your words," Karosyn observed wryly.

Here, Garum shook his head in undisguised consternation as he peered through the curtain of shimmering energy at the enigmatic woman beyond. "I fear that the woman’s nature is...erratic and when considering the lethal array of talents at her disposal, this shiftlessness is cause for grave concern."

Elaborate, Garum, Karosyn prompted as she joined her clearly unsettled weapons master in scrutinizing the still unmoving woman. Upon closer observation, Karosyn realized that her initial impression of motionlessness...of unmoving patience had been incorrect. Though she was stationary, the woman’s magnificent, muscular body was a tempest of perpetual motion. Beneath the thin fabric of her clinging garb, seemingly every fibre of every muscle rippled in barely perceptible, but nonetheless incessant waves. These tiny contractions of her dense musculature evoked images of fields of grass being stirred by a gently soughing breeze.

The degree of muscle control this display would suggest...is incredible, Karosyn marvelled and as she watched the decidedly erotic dance of sculpted muscle...of thighs and abdomen...the Queen suddenly realized that it was being conducted specifically for her benefit. Despite the occluding sorcery of the curtain, the woman was fully aware that she was being surreptitiously watched. Karosyn found this epiphany and all it implied, deeply disturbing...making Garum’s candor all the more critical.

Garum gave a rueful wag of his head, clearly bemused by the woman he’d been tasked to monitor. In matters of training and unarmed combat, she is the most disciplined being I’ve ever seen, but her nature is...unsettled. She is vainglorious and arrogant, which considering the enormity of her talent, is perhaps to be expected to some degree...especially in one so young. Still, there are times when she demonstrates a needless cruelty when besting her opponents...a penchant for doling out humiliation that is profoundly disturbing.

Karosyn eyed Garum intently and demanded, "Humiliation? How exactly does she humiliate her opponents?

Tranan clearly discerned the uncharacteristic snap of iron in Karosyn’s voice and knew that this revelation had vexed the Queen mightily. Karosyn deplored cruelty in its every ugly guise and Garum hoped that this aversion would prevent what he had come to fear would be a catastrophe should the queen set this creature to purpose. Tranan met his queen’s searing regard and replied evasively, Perhaps it would be best if you see for yourself, your majesty. The demonstration I’ve arranged should serve as an ideal showcase for her inimitable talents...and the darker angels of her nature. This should then help you decide if she is truly a tool you wish to employ in your name and the name of the Emercia you’ve forged.

Garum’s eyes grew comically wide as he realized the sheer temerity of this last utterance...a pronouncement that was as close as the weapons master had ever come to criticizing the woman he privately loved more than his very life.

Then it seems that you and I share the same misgivings in this matter, Garum, the Queen allowed in a sober voice. Let us begin so I might witness your concerns first hand.

Relieved that he had apparently not affronted his Queen with his ungainly criticism, Garum stepped closer to the arcane curtain and raised his right hand.

In response, Karosyn could feel a subtle tension immediately insinuate itself into the very air of this bleak place. She also noticed that the woman had gone utterly still the very instant that Garum had raised his hand...as if she was fully cognizant of both his presence and his actions.

‘Could this creature actually be an empath?’ she wondered, knowing what rare aberrations such creatures were.

A man, attired from head to toe in black, bare foot and armed with two polished hardwood clubs, came creeping out of one of the shadowed corners of the cavernous chamber. He moved with a deliberation inspired by a mind to stealth, but Karosyn required only one glimpse at the smirk that had blossomed on the woman’s generous mouth to know that she was fully cognizant of her would be attacker’s approach.

You’re certain that blindfold is opaque? she heard herself inquire distantly.

I inspected it myself, your majesty. At her insistence, we also placed cotton batting against her eyes before wrapping the scarf around her head. She has been completely deprived of the faculty of sight, Garum confirmed.

When the attacker’s meandering course had carried him to within arm’s reach and the woman had still not moved, he sprang to the offensive. Lunging forward, he attempted to strike the woman with an offset pincer...the right club intended for her head and the left for her muscular thigh.

To his shock and dismay, the woman bent backwards at the knee...until her entire body was parallel to the ground...in total defiance of gravity and normal body mechanics.

The sweeping blows found only air and pulled the attacker slightly forward. Before he could recover his balance, the woman sprang back to a vertical position as if propelled by a spring loaded fulcrum. She drove the heel of both hands into his face, snapping his head back and sending the much larger man into tumbling unconsciousness.

The woman lithely side-stepped him as he toppled, hitting the floor with a muffled thud that sent his two clubs spinning off into the gloom. The woman went off to retrieve the two weapons, deliberately stepping on the unconscious man’s back as she did. When she’d collected both clubs, she returned to the fallen opponent. Turning the man onto his back, she pushed one of the clubs between his slack jaws in the way one might give a dog a stick.

She then rose with a liquid flexing of powerful thighs. Holding the other club, she smirked directly at the spot where Karosyn and Garum stood and then strode briskly to another position in the chamber, her muscular haunches swaying fetchingly as she went.

Vulgar exhibitionism! Karosyn grumbled to which Garum nodded.

A mild display, my Queen, Tranan observed quietly, which drew a sharp glance from Karosyn. I fear you’ll see far worse before this spectacle reaches its conclusion. Violence only seems to whet her appetite for humiliation. I suspect your presence might incite her to new lows.

Just then, two more assailants emerged from the shadows, converging on the unarmed woman from opposite sides of the chamber. Each attacker moved with measured care, brandishing simple wooden quarter staffs.

The woman reacted to their furtive approach by assuming a stance that struck Karosyn, who abhorred physical violence and was unfamiliar with its nuances, as ungainly and peculiar. She expressed this to her weapons master.

Without taking his gaze from the woman, he explained, It may seem that way, but while in this stance, she is explosively dangerous.

The woman had fallen into a spread stance, with her right leg thrust forward and bent at the knee. Her torso was bent over the forward knee and parallel to the ground. Her left arm was flung out behind her, while her right arm was extended forward. In her right hand, she held the club she’d wrestled from her vanquished opponent and was tapping it lightly on the stone floor.

The smile that adorned her angular face evoked comparisons with the slavering snarl of a hungry predator...preparing to dine on an easy meal. Karosyn could see that this posture also unsettled her opponents because they both came to an abrupt halt.

Come now, don’t say this tiny stick has caused your balls to shrivel? the woman challenged disdainfully, though her voice was all smoke and velvet. Surely two big strapping lads can show this little girl how those big sticks are meant to be used?

The two staff wielders crept forward with even greater caution than before, prompting Karosyn, who was engrossed in the vulgar display despite herself, to observe, If her intent was to incite their masculine egos into compelling them into a rash charge, it would seem she’s failed.

Garum raised his right hand slightly. I would caution, my Queen, that this woman’s motives are every bit as indecipherable as her nature. I can tell you that she has managed to unsettle two men who are not easily unnerved.

Karosyn pursed her full lips and returned her gaze to the fray. One of the men had circled to face the woman and when he had ventured within striking distance, she abruptly hurled the club at the opponent with a casual flick of the wrist. It flashed across the space between the pair, the rounded end striking his exposed throat with sufficient force to make him relinquish his grip on the quarter staff. He clutched his injured throat with a gurgling groan."

The second attacker bound forward in a blur, while adjusting his grip on the staff to bring the weapon down in a whistling arc with the intention of bludgeoning the she-demon’s skull."

The strike found only open air and as a disbelieving Karosyn watched, the woman exploded out of her crouch, executing a seemingly impossible backflip that carried her up and over the quarter staff and its flummoxed wielder.

The staff struck the dark stone floor with sufficient force to snap the thin length of wood. Before the startled attacker could fully digest what had just transpired, the woman landed directly behind him. Springing back into the air the very instant she’d landed, the terrifying creature delivered a powerful two-legged thrust kick to the centre of his back, driving him forward onto his face with a sickening thud.

The engine of carnage then launched her compact body parallel to the ground, driving a fist into the back of his skull that propelled the vanquished opponent into twitching unconsciousness. Her forward momentum carried her into a perfectly executed tumble and past her other attacker, who was just now starting to regain his composure. She clambered up his back, while snaking her left elbow under his chin and locking her heavily muscled legs around his torso, just beneath his rib cage.

Karosyn could clearly see every muscle in the powerful woman’s body contract as she applied a constricting pressure to the hopelessly ensnared man’s throat and torso. Peering directly at the arcane curtain, she rubbed her heel across his groin and announced, I do believe he is enjoying this far too much.

A short time later, the man collapsed to his knees with his tormentor still on his back and his arms hanging limply at his sides. She released her stranglehold and slammed him onto his back, where he lay utterly still. Reaching down, she clutched his groin with caressing fingers and declared blithely, Yes, he definitely enjoyed that more than was seemly.

Face contorted in outrage, Karosyn growled, This is reprehensible. Stop this odious exhibition at once and have this reprobate escorted from the city...in chains!

Before Garum could comply, the woman waved her arms wildly and roared, "Release the hounds...now!

To a livid Karosyn’s mounting consternation, the ill-advised drama which she’d set in motion seemed to gain its own inexorable momentum. Attackers came pouring out of the deep shadows from every corner. Unlike the first three, they did not approach the daunting woman with timid deliberation, but rather swarmed toward her in a frenzy...like Redian berserkers in the full thrall of blood lust. The detail-obsessed Karosyn counted a dozen in all, each wielding different lengths of hardwood stave. To her chagrin, she saw that one even brandished a large wooden mallet.

Despite her mounting fury, Karosyn could feel herself succumbing to the black fascination of this choreography of violence, where an unarmed vessel of mayhem stood alone against a dozen armed attackers, who converged upon her from every side.

This dark scenario conjured images of a similar, though far less abhorrent spectacle, conjured from the nadir of Karosyn’s long life. It had been on the return trip to Nalosan, with her lost daughter, Lyndsyn’s body chilling beneath a shroud on the crude wooden boards of a wagon. Cloistered in grief, Karosyn had watched as Issidris Il had delivered a lesson in the finer points of combat to a Suran rogue they’d been travelling with...Reyfort had been his name. After Issidris had humbled Reyfort, Lorio had bound forth and she and the stoic Issidris had engaged in an epic sparring session the artistry of which had impressed Karosyn even beneath the pall of her dejection.

Issidris was gone now, claimed by the relentless march of years, but Lorio...magnificent Lorio lived on like a burning star in the firmament...though where she blazed, Karosyn could not say.

She shook her head, trying to resist the pull of recollection of that bleak period, instead focusing on the exasperating creature who appeared evidently unconcerned by the hopeless odds now confronting her.

As her attackers charged, bellowing inarticulate cries rife with the promise of carnage, the woman stood with her legs shoulder width apart and her muscular arms hanging loosely at her sides. Her head was slightly bowed but an enthralled Karosyn could clearly discern the carnivorous grin that emblazoned her partially obscured face...and knew that she relished what was to follow.

An aspect of the macabre seized control of the moment then...like a disjointed illusion glimpsed from down the length of a poorly illuminated corridor. Bringing her extraordinary faculties of concentration to bear, Karosyn filtered out the superfluous detail of the chaos...the bellows of contrived fury and the more distracting howls of genuine pain.

She narrowed her cognizance down, culling the distractions until all she beheld was the provocatively dressed woman. She shifted in place with a speed and fluidity that made a mockery of physical limitations.

Karosyn narrowed her eyes and the woman suddenly underwent a startling metamorphosis. Gone was the paragon of muscle and grace and in her place, the transfixed Karosyn beheld a glittering column of water that spiralled and receded, undulated and twisted in perfect syncopation to the exterior forces that attempted to restrain it...to disrupt its flow.

Intermittently, an extrusion of water would erupt from the main column, accompanied by a sharp exclamation of pain and a distant, muffled thud.

The column flared to blinding magnitude one final time and then settled back into itself. Karosyn opened her eyes to see ten unmoving bodies littering the stone floor around the woman, who had now removed her blindfold and was glaring belligerently at the two men who knelt before her, their heads bowed in abject surrender.

We submit, both men mumbled in unison.

Submit? The green-eyed woman echoed, her tone both baleful and incredulous. I don’t fucking think so, you craven geldings!

Before either could react, she bound forward and seizing their heads in powerful fingers, drove their skulls together with a resounding crack.

The two sagged to the stone in a boneless sprawl that provoked a grimace from Garum and a huff of disgust from the indignant Queen.

The woman stepped disdainfully onto the chest of one of her fallen foes and facing the arcane curtain, demanded, Can you furtive observers at least provide me with a challenge worth the effort? If this hapless lot represents the best you can muster...perhaps I should climb that accursed staircase and claim the throne for my own.

Karosyn spun to face her weapons master and even in the muted light of the corridor, Garum could see that her immaculate complexion was stained by hectic red blotches. To his dismay, he realized that the stalwart Queen was in close proximity to openly losing her composure, as evinced by her next startling utterance. Garum, I want you to teach this insufferably arrogant witch a lesson in respect and humility. If you must inflict the odd bruise and scrape to do so, then so be it.

Garum’s eyes widened in bewilderment, but he quickly reined in his shock and offering his queen a stiffly formal bow, the aging swordsman moved to comply.

Upon later reflection, Karosyn, to her eternal shame, realized that she had failed to perceive a fleeting glimpse of something else in Garum Tranan’s sharp gaze...disappointment and an emotion that might well have been anxiety, if not outright trepidation.

Still, unquestioning obedience to the Queen, whom he had served his entire adult life, caused the weapons master to set aside his misgivings. He strode resolutely into the vast expanse of cold stone, which he had always privately believed resembled a tomb.

The woman greeted his entrance with a radiant smile, which an increasingly vexed Karosyn notice never touched her polar green eyes that seemed rimmed with frost.

‘For all of your vaunted wisdom, you’ve committed a grievous misjudgment with this deplorable creature,’ she castigated herself with a grimace. ‘If you do not intervene this instant, it will be Garum Tranan, this noble man who has served you with such devotion, who will pay a heavy price in the currency of humiliation.’

Yet, despite her mounting reservations, a deeper instinct stayed the virtuous Karosyn’s hand...though what would follow would inflict an indelible stain on her perceived virtue.

The woman walked slowly toward the weapons master, who had come to a halt and now tracked her approach impassively. Her muscular thighs danced fetchingly as she stalked toward him like a great cat on the hunt...exuding indolent, poised violence. She spread her arms and quipped, So, old man...you are the best that mighty Emercia has to offer? Still, I can see by the lightness in your stance that you will make a worthy adversary...unlike these cockless imbeciles, who clutched their weapons like frightened children clinging to their mother’s skirts. With them, I merely toyed...but with you, out of respect, I will not hold back! Her tone darkened and after flashing her teeth at the arcane curtain, she added, I can predict that you will quickly come to rue that tribute.

When he did not react to her taunt, the diminutive pain dispenser merely shrugged and invited, A stoic, is it? Well I suppose that is an admirable quality in a man. Come, teach me a new trick...weapons master!

Garum drew his rapier in a fluid motion and assumed a neutral stance, knees slightly bent, weapon levelled before him at waist height. Having witnessed this engine of carnage ply her brutal trade these last weeks, Garum elected to let her take the initiative...in hopes of holding her at bay until the queen grew weary of this spectacle and intervened.

She circled him slowly, arms held perfectly straight and slightly away from her body. Garum pivoted gracefully in place, his rapier tip now aligned with the woman’s sternum. With a feral grin, she encouraged, Come now, old man...don’t you want to demonstrate your prowess with the sword for your queen? Her tone became velvet smoke and she purred, I’ve seen the yearning in your eyes whenever you look upon her and know you long to show her how skilfully you can employ your other sword...that is, if you still can.

His only response to the crude taunt was to slightly tighten his grip on his sword haft. Such was the magnitude of the woman’s unprecedented skill that this small reaction was sufficient to provide an advantage...upon which she swiftly capitalized with devastating effect.

Unfurling in an explosion of sinewy limbs, the woman executed a swift, diving roll that carried her past and slightly behind the startled Tranan. Even as she performed this stunningly agile maneuver, the blond landed a heavy strike to Garum’s right thigh, just below the hip.

Despite being in motion, the blow landed with the impact of a tenderizing mallet, eliciting a grunt of pain from the aging weapons master. The woman came to her feet with a nimble twist and proceeded to land two powerful blows to Garum’s exposed hamstrings, followed by a titanic forearm to the left side of Tranan’s head.

The force of the blow sent the hopelessly overmatched Tranan stumbling sideways. The blond moved swiftly to take advantage of this sudden turn of fortune by delivering a rapid succession of rapier precise strikes that dislodged Garum’s sword and deposited him on his right side in a quivering heap.

This violent act of total destruction transpired in the span of but a few accelerated heartbeats. The blond stood gazing down on her thoroughly beaten foe, the expression on her pretty face inscrutable. She then extended her muscular right leg and with her bare foot, rolled the semi-coherent Tranan onto his back, before squatting on his chest in a way that evoked images of a large bird perching on a rock. Patting his slack face gently, she intoned softly, Sorry old man, I had a point to prove...emphatically. At least I didn’t hurt that handsome face of yours.

The sharp report of heels ringing on stone announced an incensed Karosyn’s entry into the training hall.

Enough! she roared, her fury fulminating through the vast chamber like rolling thunder. The muscular blond glanced up, the nascent stirring of a smirk on her face, but before it could fully take shape, she found that she was unceremoniously jerked into the cool air. She was roughly turned upside down to hang over a prone Garum Tranan like an inverted T...her arms extended to either side and held in place by an invisible force that shook her vigorously.

The Emercian Queen came to a halt and glared at the infuriating creature, who, while unsettled by Karosyn’s towering anger, displayed neither deference, nor fear, despite her position of helpless vulnerability.

Karosyn knelt next to the weapons master, who was only now beginning to stir from his daze. She laid her right palm along the angle of his jaw and felt both his pain and abjection beneath her gentle touch. To her intense shame, Karosyn also discerned his self-contempt for having failed her.

I’m so sorry, old friend, she murmured and suffused his body with ameliorating warmth that at least effaced his pain, if not his humiliation. Lie still while I deal with this despicable viper.

She rose and settled her scorching regard on the recalcitrant woman, who challenged, Put me down, retract your arcane claws and face me in a fight...then let’s see if you’re still so eager to hurl names.

Karosyn seized the blonde’s chin and shook her vigorously, though the serene part of her nature was appalled by her overtly physical actions. "You believe these petulant games you play are a measure of true power...and this somehow legitimizes your right to humiliate those you best? These so-called gifts you have are a shallow jape. The woman who carved these chambers from stone...she would have incinerated an army of your sorry ilk with the batting of a lash. The woman who will arrive on these shores in the coming weeks...she would inculcate every nuance of abjection into the very marrow of your bones...as could I. Fortunately for you...I am a woman of a radically different disposition. She raked the woman with a predatory grin that had never before adorned her exquisite face. Still, I am not averse to administering a harsh lesson when it is so blatantly warranted."

Despite the strident protest of her unassailable virtuous conscience, Karosyn waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and the diminutive blond found herself being unceremoniously flung across the chamber. She landed with a guttural grunt, in a rolling tangle of limbs. She scrambled to her knees, her polar green eyes ablaze with fury.

Before she could regain her feet, Karosyn gesticulated, still deliberately ignoring her disapproving inner voice. The air around the beleaguered woman appeared to congeal and surge and in rapid succession, invisible fists delivered a barrage of blows that drove the woman flat onto her face.

She writhed beneath the unrelenting assault, twisting into a fetal ball and protectively covering her head with her muscular arms. She uttered a thick grunt with every blow, but stubbornly refused to plead or otherwise give voice to her pain.

The Queen had gone as still as a piece of statuary while she dispensed this savage punishment. Her normally limpid blue eyes had assumed an oddly vacant cast.

At her feet, a mortified Garum twisted in place and conjured the temerity to reach out and snag the hem of her cloak, entreating thickly, Please, my Queen...stop!

Karosyn’s regard snapped to meet his and for a slight instant, no longer than the beat of his anxious heart, Garum feared that the woman he had secretly loved for decades was about to unleash her wrath upon him. Then, in agonizingly slow increments, cognizance filtered into the moment and that expression of furious disassociation relented to one of dawning horror.

Karosyn came back to herself with a violent shudder, realizing that she had come perilously close to committing an irreversible atrocity. The aura of power in which she’d been enveloped abruptly dematerialized and the arcane pummelling of the now unmoving woman ceased.

The disoriented Emercian queen stepped over Garum and crossed over to the barely coherent blond, who regarded her approach with a sullen wariness.

By your actions here today, you have revealed yourself to be a despicable miscreant and the only thing preventing me from having you permanently chained in the deepest cell in Kammlogran is that, by my actions just now, I have exposed myself to be little different. Still, I will suffer the sight of you no further. You will return to your quarters and gather your belongings, after which I will dispatch cavalry to escort you to the nearest border so that you might slither back into the burrow from where you came. She bent closer and in a tone like the glinting edge of a razor, admonished, Should you ever be so foolish as to return to Emercia, I will have you dragged behind a horse until every snippet of flesh is excoriated from your miserable bones.

With this dire threat delivered (which she knew she would never act upon even for the most heinous of transgressions), Karosyn turned away. After coming to terms with her shocking ethical lapse, it was her intention to dismiss this lamentable escapade from her mind. Thus, she was both shocked and prepared to be angry when the woman gripped the hem of her cloak and tugged it vigorously. In a voice that quavered on the ragged edge of tears, she implored, Please, your highness, don’t send me away. I wanted only to demonstrate my value...to show that my abilities were equal to the task at hand.

She hesitated and in a tremulous voice, asked, "Can you honestly say that she wouldn’t have behaved in exactly the same way given these circumstances? I merely wanted to show that. I could...pique her interest."

Karosyn turned slowly back to the diminutive blond, who had pushed herself into a kneeling position. Gone was any hint of the arrogant swagger, displaced by a posture of submissive deference and while Karosyn knew this could be easily feigned...the note of desperation in the proud woman’s voice could not.

Rise! Karosyn commanded, her tone glacial and imperious. That peremptory tone faltered when the woman grimaced sharply as she drew herself upright. Queen or not, I was wrong to abuse you as I did...even if your actions seemed to warrant a punitive response. Harsh justice is a path to tyranny.

The woman stood with her head bowed and offered, "l deserved every blow, your highness and to make amends, I will allow these geldings to bruise me further if it is your desire...if it serves to restore their tattered male egos. I will do whatever is required to prevent you from reneging on our agreement...please, your highness!"

Karosyn silently considered the woman, who kept her eyes averted to the floor. Her conscience entreated her to reject this fraught plea and contrive another way to achieve her objective, decrying this creature as untrustworthy and dangerously ungovernable. Deeper instinct prompted her to ignore this seemingly prudent counsel to abort this misadventure before it went irretrievably awry.

She could feel Garum Tranan’s troubled gaze upon her back and sensed his displeasure as she placed a curled index finger beneath the woman’s firm chin and gently raised her head. You will assist my weapons master in providing whatever aid these men require and then offer each a sincere apology...especially the two men you abused after they’d submitted to your mastery. You will kneel before Garum Tranan and contritely solicit his forgiveness for your reprehensible conduct. Do you accept these terms of penance?

I...I do, your highness, the woman whispered in a brittle, scarcely audible voice. Karosyn could clearly perceive how exorbitantly expensive this had been for the proud creature.

Then, to the astounded incredulity of the flummoxed blond, Karosyn took her right hand and dropped to one knee before her. Behind her, she heard Garum utter a strangled grasp of incredulous horror over what he perceived as her abasement. Peering directly into those polar green eyes, the queen offered her own egalitarian gesture of contrition. By abusing you as I did, I have disgraced myself in the eyes of my Goddess. I humbly plead for your forgiveness.

Both nonplused and embarrassed by a display of contrition that was without precedent amongst kings and queens...where the presumption of divinity was a common trait, she stammered, You...you have it...so please, your highness...get up.

Karosyn rose gracefully and in a tone that would countenance no argument, made her expectations explicitly clear. "When you resume your training in the morning, you will afford those assigned to aid you the respect and dignity they deserve. Garum will be tasked with watching you to ensure that you do not degrade or humiliate my bondsmen. While you are in Nalosan, you will conduct yourself with the courtesy and civility befitting a woman in the service of the queen."

Yes, your highness, the evidently chastened engine of carnage swore, though from where he remained prone, Tranan ascribed very little credence to her vow.

Very well, once you have been dismissed here, you will attend me in my private audience chamber. Karosyn’s gaze swept over the woman’s battered body and her generous mouth puckered in disapproval. Before you do, change into an attire more suitable for standing in the presence of a queen. This salacious garb is offensive.

The young woman bowed, all impertinence gone from her demeanour. Karosyn allowed herself a small grin of satisfaction as she turned away and marched over to Garum, who was only now climbing to his feet. Once you have dealt with matters here, you will present yourself to Carilla for examination and healing as required.

Garum started to object, but she forestalled his objection with a raised index finger, That is a royal command...not a request.

Her luminous blue eyes assumed an affectionate twinkle and she added, You will dine with me tonight in my parlour. This odious episode has made me realize that it is well past time that these lower levels be flooded and sealed. Only the business of monsters and tyrants is routinely conducted underground and away from the light...and that is not who we are.

With this, Karosyn strode from the chamber without sparing a parting glance at the woman with whom she had entered into an increasingly dubious arrangement.

At the base of the spiral stairs, she elected to forego the arduous climb and gave herself to the updraft current of air. As she rocketed back toward the light, Karosyn whispered, Lorio, my beautiful, lost child...what has become of you?

Chapter Two

1

At one time in the past, the woman over whom the Noble Karosyn fretted had been ensconced in a dark corner of an Inn (the name of which she’d forgotten)...in a village somewhere in central Fairmarch.

A greasy fire burned listlessly in a stone hearth, casting a flickering orange light over the dozen or so scarred wooden tables that were spread haphazardly across the rectangular room. Normally, the inn would have been occupied to bursting by this time of night, but beyond the dirty glass windows of the ale house, a cold rain had clamped down across central Fairmarch. The incessant rain showed no inclination of relenting and as a consequence, many of the ale house patrons had decided to remain in their hovels. As a result, less than half of the tables were occupied and most of the regulars were hunched over their mugs of ale or hot cider...lost In their own contemplation of loneliness and despair.

The crackle of the flames and the wheezing of the obese innkeeper were the only sounds to be heard and a pall of dejected silence hung over the gloomy interior...which suited the single female patron perfectly.

The hood of her black traveling cloak was drawn up in a way that obscured her beautiful face in deep shadow. A still steaming cup of bitter cider sat forgotten before her...as did a crude pewter plate in which mouldered the remains of a mostly uneaten chicken dinner. Though the woman was alone and a stranger to the village...customarily an imprudent situation in which a woman could find herself...she remained undisturbed by the other patrons, though many stole furtive glances at the sleek shadow in the corner. Even concealed beneath a long cloak, it was obvious that the tall woman was pleasingly proportioned, which normally would have invited unwanted attention, but this particular woman exuded an aura of menace that caused a lecher to re-evaluate the wisdom of attempting to discover who was concealed beneath the heavy black cloak.

This particular woman had seen much of this world...more, in fact, than anyone now living beneath its sky.

‘Yet, I find myself in this nondescript, reeking ale house, in this watery bog, with no clear notion where I should go next...or why I would actually want to make the effort, even if I had a destination in mind,’ Lorio thought morosely, feeling the deep tug of melancholy pulling at her resolve. ‘Did you know this would happen to me, Issidris...eventually, inevitably...when you left me alone on the edge of that fucking ocean? Did you understand that I would come to a point where I would be just as adrift and at the mercy of the current as you were when I pushed the raft out into the water that morning? You were always smarter...more perceptive than I was, so how could you not know that I would get hopelessly lost without you?’

Lorio reached for her cider and downed a long draught of the bitter brew, which tasted like rotten apples and festering despair.

It had been years since the day that Lorio had pushed the raft carrying Issidris’ body out onto the Sea of Permanent Departure. It had been her beloved friend’s wish that her body be given to the ocean in the capricious hope that its waves would carry her to a shore where no living being had ever set foot.

‘All of those years, Issidris and the torment of losing you has not dampened...not a whit, like an infected wound that no unguent can ever heal. It just festers. Did you know that as well? You told me on that last day that you couldn’t be strong for me anymore, but after these lonely years of trying to cope, I’m not sure I can be strong for myself.’

Lorio inhaled sharply, flaying herself with her piteous weakness. ‘If you could see me like this, wallowing in maudlin sorrow, would you even have given me a second look or would you just have dismissed me as something pathetic...unworthy of your attention. Still, my happiest moments over these last years have always been thoughts of you.’

Though unaware of the fact, Lorio uttered a papery chuckle, which drew a severe scowl from the inn keeper. When the woman had first approach him with a mind to procuring a room, he had been astounded by the palpable weight of her beauty, but as he furtively watched her pick at her dinner and nurse her cider, the portly man began to feel increasingly uneasy. Something in her posture invited unnerving comparisons with a storm poised on the edge of eruption. He feared what might befall him and the other patrons should that storm break. Absorbed in her sentimental contemplation, Lorio was oblivious to the disquiet her brooding presence was rousing in her fellow patrons.

‘I think it might shock you, Issidris, but in these years of quiet solitude, I’ve developed quite an aptitude for tale weaving. If I could suffer to spend time in the company of other people, perhaps I’d have the makings of a credible bard.’ The idea brought a genuine smile to Lorio’s curving lips...an expression that had been at a dearth since she’d returned to the Antiquated Lands. She had lost count of the number of nights she’d spent engaged in this most improbable of exercises.

Along a rarely travelled backroad, seated with her back propped against a low stone wall, the warm air redolent with a farmer’s crop, Lorio would gaze up into the firmament. As she watched the glorious ballet of an infinite number of stars whirling majestically through the mid-summer’s night sky, she would compose elaborate tales from which she would marshal the wherewithal to see her through another lonely day. ‘As the heavens would spin above me, Issidris, I imagined that you had reached your fabled shore and the world you found there was wondrous...too breathtakingly beautiful for words to convey. And so were you, Issidris...young and strong and as hard as tempered steel.’

‘On those nights, I would imagine you embarked on endless adventures...surrounded by incredible companions who loved you and cherished your company. Together, you would all travel through this marvelous world you’d dreamed of as a child, where you would discover endless varieties of joy. You’d never be hungry or afraid...or alone. All of those ugly memories that leeched the joy from your life here...those horrors that prevented you from accepting and giving love...they would vanish from your mind. Yet, even when you found yourself in the embrace of the lovers you would take, you would never forget me or that I loved you more than anything in my entire wretched life...even if my imperfections prevented me from showing it properly.’

Lorio inhaled slowly and took another long draught of her cider, while brushing absently at the single tear that meandered over her slanting cheekbone. ‘These tales, Issidris...along with the treasure trove of memories of our years together...have become my most cherished possessions. I have it in my head to find a scribe to write them out for me...as if setting them to paper will make them tangible...real somehow. I can imagine you’re shaking your head right now and your face is set in that long suffering expression you’d wear whenever I was being particularly dense or exasperating.’

‘The dawn would come as it invariably must and the magic of your concocted life would vanish with its coming. There were mornings when I would come awake, fully expecting that I would see you, lying across the cold embers of a campfire. When the terrible reality of your absence crashed down upon me, I would feel a yawning void open in my heart...so vast that I felt certain it would swallow me whole. I was always so disappointed when I remembered that it could not. Mornings are always bleached out, hollow things for me and I find that my feet carry me aimlessly...like the daughter of dust before the wind I was born to be, I suppose.’

‘When you watch me from that world of yours...across this divide that neither of us can surmount, do you see me as a fool, Issidris? I remember, in my misery, I had asked you, on that baleful fucking day, what I was supposed to do now...without you. You had answered...anything...everything...that because of who and what I am, mine was a future of limitless possibilities. I tried, Issidris, I’ve tried to heed your advice...I swear I have!’

Even as she made this vehement declaration, a small voice denounced her as a liar...reminding her how long it had been since she’d last been to Nalosan. She had returned to Nalosan immediately after consigning Issidris’ body to the ocean’s bosom...to inform Queen Karosyn of Il’s death. Karosyn had implored Lorio to remain...to come to terms with Issidris’ loss in Nalosan...under her sympathetic and supportive eye. Instead, Lorio had fled and had never returned.

Lorio, who had been frequently victimized by the insidious thrall of delusion often enough over the course of her life, was certain that the pragmatic Issidris Il abhorred delusion. They had never discussed the matter during their thirty years together. Issidris was stoic by nature and not prone to expansiveness, but Lorio knew that Issidris would have regarded the harbouring of delusions as an ultimately futile self-indulgence. That thought carried the troubled immortal into perilously close proximity to honestly examining the real reason she’d not returned to Nalosan...a dark territory into which she had absolutely no desire to venture.

Instead, she conjured a lie...or more precisely, a half-truth to avoid that uncomfortable consideration. ‘I remembered how you advised me to seek out the road to my future...by travelling back along the roads through my past. I’ve tried, Issidris. I really did, but all these excursions have brought me is sorrow...like ripping open old scars.’

Though the truth of the matter was that the beautiful Lamish immortal had laboured diligently to avoid all human interaction...to eschew any prospect of emotional entanglement. She seized on the one instant she had made a valid attempt at taking up the threads of a possible future.

In her mind’s eye, that sepia-hued memory unfurled...bringing with it all of the fleeting happiness and lingering pain it had evoked as she’d lived it.

2

After Lorio had given her lost Issidris to the Sea of Permanent Departure, she had made her way back to Dortizirian. There, she had petitioned the Sisters of Esotaria to grant her passage back to Nalosan on one of the order’s sleek sailing ships that regularly made the journey between Gyzarayne’s earthly seat of power and Emercia, where their former Matrium now held the throne as that Nation’s beloved Queen.

During the placid sea voyage, a despondent Lorio had gleaned a vaguely unsettling truth concerning the Sisters of Esotaria...a pattern that could well foment serious strife within the order somewhere in the future. With the Ascentrix’s continuing absence and her fixation upon Majeer, the sisters had begun to furtively look to their former Matrium for guidance...which explained why they had sown such strong roots in Emercia. Though Lorio had absolutely no doubt that the undeviatingly proper Karosyn would do nothing to undermine her former Ascentrix, the immortal surmised that the enigmatic Lissom might construe matters differently. In the ten years she’d spent in the bewilderingly complex creature’s company, Lorio had perceived a subtle change in Gyzarayne’s earthly emissary. Something in wild Majeer seemed to have invoked the darker aspects of Lissom’s nature...making her infinitely more dangerous. This was a particularly disconcerting thought, especially considering that, with the exception of the goddess, Otaru Ree, Lissom was far and away the most powerful creature on the face of the world.

This troubling thought evoked recollections of the vow that Issidris had extracted from her.

‘I have never made a demand on our friendship, but now I’m asking you to vow...on your honour and whatever love you might have for me...should Lissom ever grow to become the dark shadow Karosyn fears she could well become, you will not stand against her. Swear to me!’

Riven by grief, Lorio had sworn her oath never to become embroiled in the Sisters’ internal discord. She wanted only to fade into the greenery and let the world resolve its own problems.

During the course of that bleak return journey, Lorio had spent most of her time alone in her assigned quarters. When the confines of her tiny berth began to press in upon her, she would wander up to the deck and find a secluded area where she would stare absently out over the vast expanse of water. The ocean seemed as empty as the prospect of her life without Issidris to grant it context and meaning. Gleaning her inner turmoil and sorrow, the Sisters had given the immortal a wide berth during the voyage, a consideration for which she was genuinely grateful.

Naturally, the loyal sisters had communicated the word of her coming to their former Matrium...along with the fact that Lorio had embarked on the return journey alone.

Just as naturally, Karosyn had been there to greet her when the Sisters’ ship had sailed to a smooth stop and moored against the stone quay.

Beautiful beyond words and flawlessly regal...the living quintessence of royalty...Karosyn had enfolded Lorio into her long, lean arms the very instant the despondent immortal had stumbled to the bottom of the gang plank.

Now, sitting in the darkened corner of this cloying ale house, Lorio could clearly recall her startling reaction to this earnest expression of condolence and commiseration. While a weeping Karosyn had kissed her cheeks and held her tightly, whispering vows that she would do everything in her power to offer the grieving immortal what solace she could...the hollowed-eyed Lorio had been visited by an entirely different compulsion.

She had wanted nothing more than to seize Karosyn’s head and beat that perfect face against the nearest stone piling until it had been reduced to an oozing pulp of brain and bone shards.

‘You could have told me, cunt. No matter what vow you’d offered, you could have told me what had passed between you and Issidris. This was not a game, it was our lives, you fucking bitch! You stole them from us...stole her from me!’

Mercifully, Lorio had neither succumbed to that odious compulsion, nor given voice to her outrage. Instead, she had fled the bewildered Karosyn and Emercia and had returned to neither since.

In the intervening years, Lorio had come to perceive that her scathing condemnation of the noble Karosyn had been grossly unfair, but the lingering weeds of resentment still festered in her heart. She could simply not bring herself to face the one woman who could truly divine her pain and offer her solace.

As she’d departed Emercia, heading north without the slightest idea where she was destined, a notion germinated in Lorio’s tumultuous thoughts. Part catharsis and part token nod to Issidris’ final advice, once the notion had taken shape, it gnawed at Lorio like an irrepressible itch. To assuage that itch, Lorio had headed to Anangrast with the intention of reprising her failed quest of perambulating the entire shoreline of Lake Sonier...a misadventure that had nearly killed Issidris when they had first attempted it two decades earlier.

Immune to the ravages of inimical weather and deprivation, Lorio had set out from Anator with solitude as her only companion, but rather than helping her take the first agonizing step toward acceptance of Issidris’ loss, Lorio found herself sinking deeper into a morass of despair with every step she took.

Her uncannily accurate memory had led her back to the mouldering remains of the crude compound in northern Anangrast. It had been