Wine of the Gods 08: Dark Lady Read online

  He and the tavernmaster managed to get Roger on his horse, and one of the boys trotted along to make sure he got home.

  Then Liz and December supported each other back to their rooms, with the girl trailing behind, carrying the baby, who woke up and demanded food.

  Liz vaguely thought she should be helping but . . . She collapsed in bed and dreamed of a handsome prince.

  Chapter Eight

  Tuesday, February 24, 3493 AD

  Jeramtown, Arrival

  Liz whimpered as she crawled out of bed in the afternoon. She looked in the next room. December was sitting on the floor again. She waved Liz in and pointed at a pitcher. "Drink a big glass of water. That and time will cure all hangovers."

  "Oh my. Tell me I did not go out drinking with Roger." And Kurt. Did I call the prince by his first name?

  "A baronet and a prince. Are our reputations trashed?"

  "No, we had plenty of witnesses that we were never alone with them. And went to our own rooms without them."

  "Ah, good. I worry sometimes about this place."

  "Oh no. Wait." Liz sipped at the water and tried to think. "How loud was he when he said that about my mother? About me?"

  "Umm, it's no big deal, a baby a bit less than nine months after a wedding."

  "But he implied that Da wasn't my father."

  "He was drunk. Good grief. No one would pay any attention to that."

  "Ha!" Liz winced and sat down carefully.

  Quail was on the floor beside her mother, working diligently to get a foot in her mouth.

  "She's so beautiful. What does her father look like?"

  "Umm, brown hair, darker than mine, and brown eyes so dark they're nearly black, but warm, reddish brown around the rim. And he's very tall. And . . . I can't even remember his name. Maybe I'm just a madwoman, and I'm making it all up."

  "Oh, I don't think so, M'lady."

  She snorted in a very unladylike fashion and grabbed her head. "Ooo. I underestimated the tavernmaster's brew badly."

  Liz moaned agreement.

  The day passed. They survived. They even ate dinner, trading polite nods with the pale Captain Alpha across the room.

  Chapter Nine

  Wednesday, February 25, 3493 AD

  Jeramtown, Arrival

  There were enough men in uniform to look like an invasion.

  Liz steered Phantom out to the field designated the Central Courier's Post for the all day drill.

  Pretty much the entire town took the day off their regular work and turned out, to participate, to sell food and drinks, or just to watch and enjoy a break in their routine.

  The courier group split up and they were assigned to the northeast, southeast, or west routes. Liz was southeast this year, her favorite, with the most woods, streams and even crossed the river. They all jumped, forded or scrambled through the obstacles from both directions, then spread out to relay message packets.

  Liz scowled as her little brother got the tag end and rode off with Master Jeremy. The "emergency dispatch" would be started from there, and they'd relay it all the way to the Post as fast as possible, and then the "emergency orders" would come flying back.

  She watched her brother, blonde hair shining in the sun . . . All her brothers and sisters were blonde. She alone had this red brown hair. Damn, damn, damn.

  She slid off Phantom and loosened the girth. Her assigned spot was here. To relay dispatches either direction as they came in. They started at random times, and wanted the riders dismounted and resting their mounts . . . Phantom pricked his ears to the south and she heard pounding hooves

  "Well, they're not wasting any time, are they?" She retightened the cinch, grabbed the saddle and jumped and pulled herself up enough to get a foot in the stirrup.

  Lonnie blasted out of the trees, his chestnut running flat out. He was yelling, but too far away to hear. Probably wanted to do a fancy galloping hand-off. Idiot.

  Master Jeremy's bay galloped out of the woods, reins flapping, saddle empty.

  Lonnie didn't have a dispatch bag.

  Liz turned Phantom north and held his speed down so Lonnie could catch up. Suddenly his yelling started making sense. "They killed Master Jeremy."

  "Bandits?" she yelled back.

  "Uniforms, tan with floppy hats." He panted. "Go ahead, warn them."

  Phantom flattened out and left him behind. As they approached the next wooded stretch, she looked back. Horses were coming from the woods behind them, and Lonnie was veering off for a lesser track where he might be able to lose them in the woods. Smart boy. Then she paid attention to her own route, slowing Phantom as the track wound and dropped down to the river. Phantom galloped out of the trees, slid down the steep bank and trotted across the ford, high stepping out of the knee deep water. As he headed up the opposite bank, Liz looked back and counted eight horses before she was back in the trees. She suggested a trot, and Phantom supplied a long ground covering one.

  The next post was just ahead. If she could get the other rider off quickly, God it was Kyle, what a joke. He was so slow . . . but as soon as she was in sight, he scrambled up off his butt and tightened his horse's cinch.

  "Where's the bag? Did you drop the bag?" Kyle yelled as he tried to get his foot into the stirrup.

  "No," she yelled back. "We have a real emergency, at least eight men in tan uniforms, mounted. They attacked Master Jeramy on sight. Go to the post, warn the troops."

  "That's not the way the drill is supposed to be." Kyle heaved himself up on his horse and trotted down the path.

  She let Phantom walk, and catch his breath.

  The clearing was small, the pursuers not in sight. Perhaps they had stopped at the river. But there was no point in staying when there was no one to bring any messages to relay onward. She walked Phantom north, back into the trees. Less underbrush, taller trees, no real concealment. Kept her head cranked around. The trotting horses made very little sound when they entered the small clearing behind her. They spotted her immediately, and charged. Phantom slid smoothly into a canter, and then flattened out to run. She reined him back a bit to keep a steady distance. They didn't know Kyle was ahead, carrying the message. The tan uniforms behind kept coming, confident of their ability to catch a heavier horse.

  Did they know they'd run into a message relay system? Did they know there were troops on maneuvers ahead? Did they know how few well trained troops were ahead?

  This was supposed to be practice, not the real thing!

  Phantom jumped the first stream without slowing down. The second was a bit wide even for him. She tried to rein him in but he shook his head and jumped from the top of the bank to the narrow sandy shore, across the stream, and leaped up the opposite bank in three economical strides. Through more woods, and into a clearing where Kyle was gesturing and the next rider was shaking his head and they were both standing still. Phantom galloped straight for them, and the troops in the tan uniforms were only a hundred feet behind. "Run!" she yelled. She passed the relay riders, and kept going. She glanced back, saw Kyle spurring frantically after her, the other fellow on his heels, and the troops close behind them.

  That was the last relay. Five miles straight to the Post, and hope like hell the officers were there and watching today.

  They cleared the line of trees and Liz flattened along Phantom's neck and let him run.

  At the third rolling hill she slowed him. Looked back. About a dozen troops, pulling up. Kyle still running. No sign of the other courier. She heaved a sigh, and trotted Phantom down the hill. Maybe four miles to cover, as quickly as possible, but no need to kill the horse.

  He was breathing fast, and sweating but not distressed, still willing to move out. Liz let him. He kept going, galloping right up to the Post, and the officers waiting.

  Old Leegy stomped out. "You are not on this leg! What the hell do you think you are doing—showing off that horse?"

  Liz raised her voice. "The end rider reported that troops in tan uniform with floppy h
ats killed Master Jeremy. Troops of that description pursued us and only quit when we cleared the last tree line south of here."

  "Girl . . . "

  Captain Alpha cut the old man off. "How many troops?"

  "A dozen mounted that I saw," she panted.

  The Captain spun his horse. "Form up the troops. We'll see if that's all there are or if they are scouting for a larger force. Baronet Roger, prepare to get your people behind the walls."

  "Damn it all, this wasn't the schedule." Roger shoved his horse up to the captain.

  "No, but we're going to react to it . . . "

  Roger's sword cleared the scabbard and stabbed viciously toward the prince's neck.

  Chapter Ten

  Wednesday, February 25, 3493 AD

  Jeramtown, Arrival

  Phantom bounded forward into Roger's horse as the prince threw himself to the side. The edge of his blade slid across the captain's chest and arm. Roger slashed backhanded as he recovered, and the sword missed. Liz kicked Phantom, hoping to throw Roger further off balance. The stallion reared and struck. Roger yelled as he was knocked off.

  The Prince drew his sword and the local troops shoved forward for their Baron's son. The Baronet's horse bolted, and Phantom struck out again as Roger tried to get up. He collapsed and lay still.

  The Captain's voice rang over the field. "Royals to me!"

  The Royals were locally out numbered. With a curse, the captain threw himself from his horse and grabbed Roger. "Still alive." He dragged the limp body toward his horse which shifted nervously.

  Liz gulped. "Phantom, can you kneel?" He did and with a manic grin the bleeding Captain slung the baronet across her lap. "Take him to the . . . no, take him to the tavern. I don't want that doctor to have him." Liz gripped, and Phantom heaved back to his feet and retreated from what was, so far, a mounted shoving match.

  The Captain remounted and raised his voice again. "Withdraw, into the city." He looked around for Liz and Phantom followed him when Liz leaned her weight that direction. He raised his voice again. "There are Arbolians south of town, we could be besieged within days. Either flee or load supplies and get within the gates. Baron's troops, go home and find out where your loyalties lie." He looked around. "Folley! Ride for camp, tell them to pack and move inside the walls. Stone, get men on all the gates, double the east, don't let the baron's men in until I talk to the baron. Send scouts out to the south, they are not to engage, just report back."

  He was cursing under his breath all the way to the south gate, checked the disposition of his men, then led the way to the tavern. This time Harv got to take care of the horses, as the two men following the captain took Roger's body and Liz jumped to prop a staggering Prince.

  The lady took one look and ran to get the tavernmaster to open the nearest room and returned quickly with clean bandages . . . er, diapers and a bottle of wine.

  Liz was holding up a fair bit of the prince's weight by now. "Roger tried to kill the captain."

  "What, you're on a first name basis with him, but me?" The Captain's voice was a bit thin. "I'm just a Captain."

  "Lay down." December ripped the shirt wide. "Not too deep. Drink this." She raised his head and got a shot glass of wine down his throat.

  "Excellent wine, but the ambiance . . . " his voice trailed off in a gasp as the lady pressed, pushing cut muscle back together, then pinched the surface slash shut—and it stayed together.

  She abandoned his chest and tore his sleeve off, and gripped his upper arm at the top and just above the elbow, and pressed her hands together, shoving the sliced muscle into place. When she released her grip the cut remained closed.

  She took her hands off and turned to the pitcher and basin. "Get some hot water." She handed the pitcher to one of the hovering staff, and turned back to the prince. "How do you feel?"

  "I love you," he reached for her hand.

  "That is an unfortunate side effect of that wine, and why I gave you so little. It'll wear off in a few hours."

  "I don't want it to wear off. I haven't felt like this for a year." He lay back and his eyes drifted to Liz. His eyes lit and he beamed at her. "Liz, you saved my life. Twice at least."

  The lady interrupted. "So how healed do you want Roger? He looks pretty bad."

  "I need him to talk." Kurt rolled off the bed and looked down at the man.

  The lady dribbled a bit of wine into his mouth. Then a bit more. "Is that a Phantom sized hoofprint on his chest?"

  "Yes M'lady," one of the Imperial troopers nodded. "The horse struck his shoulder, knocked him off his horse, he landed on his head, and then the horse landed on his chest."

  "Surprised he's alive." The lady dribbled a bit more wine.

  The girl brought hot water, and Liz dampened a diaper and sponged Kurt's arm. He leaned down and kissed her. Then straightened looking a bit shocked. "I think maybe I'd better do that myself."

  Liz backed up touching her lips.

  "They're going to win, you know."

  They all transferred their attention back to Roger.

  "I know. I'm a noble, so I know things. The gods are real, and the God of War assured me of their victory."

  "How many troops are out there?"

  Roger laughed. "They brought the army, because even though I'm giving them Jeram, you can count on Vista fighting."

  "What about your Father?"

  Roger snickered. "What about my Father. He's old, he doesn't matter any more. He's in the way."

  Kurt grabbed one of the troopers and pulled him out of the room. Liz couldn't hear what was said, but Kurt came back and the trooper didn't.

  "Vickers, you're jailer for now. We'll see about a proper cell for the baronet real soon."

  "Ladies, if you could step out here for a minute?"

  His arm seemed to find its way around her shoulders, then jerk away.

  "What was that?" he asked. "That wine?"

  "The Wine of the Gods," December answered. "It is a powerful healing spell, and rejuvenation, and fertility, and it's an aphrodisiac of incredible power. It's magic. Where I come from magic is . . . not really more common, but it has survived strongly in a few spots. Gisele and Wolf made it, years ago . . . " She frowned. Who are Gisele and Wolf?

  "Magic." Kurt seemed to think that over for a long moment. "What, beside giving a eunuch a hard one, can you do."

  "I'm not sure. The trauma or whatever . . . I might be able to stop fires, and any building or digging you need to do in rock, I can help. Metal, I'm good with metals. I think."

  "I see." Kurt eyed her dubiously, raised a eyebrow at Liz.

  "Not me. I'm ordinary."

  "Never that." He turned his head as booted feet tramped in the building. "Stone? M'lord Baron? Come this way please."

  Liz looked at December. At the bottle in her arms. "Well, magic or not, we are about to be besieged."

  "And me with a baby. This isn't good."

  "It's not good even without a baby." Liz said, following the lady back to their rooms.

  "Ah, but here you are with your Prince."

  Liz crossed her arms and scowled. "I'm the horsemaster's possibly illegitimate daughter. Don't go all romantic. I hear Quail crying."

  Quail was yelling and definitely angry, and was even a bit slow to nurse.

  "Oh, dear, you're too little to hold grudges." December told her. "I'm sorry I left you alone, but we had an emergency. Liz, all that wine I bought is under the bed, will you pull it out?"

  "Are you going to magic it all?"

  "Yes. We may see a lot of injuries really soon now." December settled down in a chair as Quail's hunger over came her indignation. "And we're going to be cramped for space, depending on how many farmers can get inside the town walls."

  "Even the baron, and . . . his household. M'lady! I left my brother out there. I left him."

  "Wait until there's news, or enough time that there ought to have been news. Then rip yourself up. In the mean time, step outdoors and see what the mood is.
Warn the tavernmaster that if it's not too late this would be a good time to lay in some extra supplies."

  From the front hallway, Liz could tell that the tavernmaster was already trying to lay in more supplies, a glance out the doors was all it took to know that the news had spread. Siege soon. A farmer's wagon of hay creaked down the road, and Liz was nearly knocked down as the tavernmaster charged out to try and buy it.

  Phantom. Horses get eaten in sieges. Her gut twisted, and then she spotted her mother, Avis in arms, Christopher and Benjamin clinging to her skirts and Margarite herding the older three. Only Lonnie was missing.

  "Oh. Lizzie, here, can you put the children somewhere, I have to get back and help pack, we don't have anything but the clothes on our backs, and the baroness said she was going to take all the empty rooms here, and the whole staff is going to have to fit in somehow."

  "Food, Mother. Food is much more important than clothes. Margarite go with her, load up on preserved and dried foods. Strip the pantry of everything you can carry." She took Avis, and Benjamin and Christopher transferred to her, just as they had a week and a half ago, before . . . everything. "C'mon guys, we'll go to my room, until we figure out where you'll be long term."

  The lady looked through the open connecting door. "I see it has started already. Can you watch them all for a minute? I want to check the situation in the stables."

  A few minutes later, Liz heard the clink of hooves on gravel and looked out the window. The end rooms looked out on a weedy strip perhaps six foot across to the next building, a large cotton warehouse. One side ended at a stone wall.

  December led the old mare down the strip, Phantom following. The lady leaned some poles against the wall. "Phantom is going to have a hell of a time turning around, but we can watch them better if they are here. And avoid the baron's temper tantrums."

  "Excellent idea, Hey Phantom, stick your head in here, see if you can turn."