Chapter 6

Dianora expected a grand banquet hall but the room where she and Garrin eventually arrived was a small dining room and the five men awaiting them were grim faced. After the saluting and the introductions, including a welcome to her from Bakuln, who she inferred was Garrin’s right hand man and had been in the dungeons with him, dinner was served and the servants withdrew.

“Can someone give me the short version of how this war with the Craadil began?” she asked as Garrin carved the roast and plates were passed down the table. She noted how he gave her the most succulent pieces from close to the bone. Garrin wasted no opportunity to show her she was cared for, which warmed her, given the strange situation she’d catapulted herself into with the ring’s help. “I’m afraid in my time, my realm as you call it, the details are sketchy at best.”

“Three ships arrived on my coast,” Garrin said, tearing off a hunk of the crusty bread and putting it on her plate. “The passengers claimed to be the only survivors of a great disaster on their own continent, far across the Storm Sea and begged for asylum.”

“The captains also burned their ships,” Bakuln added, handing her the butter crock. “Stating they wished to show their intent to remain as loyal citizens in our land.”

“Were there women and children in the group?” Dianora asked.

The men exchanged glances and Garrin shook his head. “A prescient question, my lady. No there were not, which also made us suspicious. Who flees a collapse of society without saving their families?” There was a murmur of agreement from the other men. “After the Craadil surrendered all their arms I granted them conditional amnesty and a chunk of good land, with hunting, fishing and farming possibilities. But of course they wanted more, much more.”

“We heard of raids on neighboring towns,” Bakuln said. “Despite the patrols I’d established at Garrin’s orders, the Craadil were able to carry out their depredations.”

“Unbeknownst to me, their leader was also plotting with one of my own against me.” Garrin’s tone was bleak.

“Fedorr,” said the man to the right of Dianora, speaking with such venom the name could have been a curse.

“He used to be a part of this council,” Garrin said, fist clenched. “So of course he was privy to all the plans.”

“What we didn’t know was a fourth ship had stayed out of sight offshore and then once the Craadil settlement was established, this vessel resupplied the enemy with weapons and more men.” Bakuln seemed reluctant to admit the cleverness of the ruse.

“You can no doubt guess the rest,” Garrin said to Dianora. “I was betrayed in my own castle by one I trusted, a man who was my heir since I have no children but who was impatient to take the throne, even if he was to be a puppet of the Craadil. When you arrived the first time and found us immured in the dungeons, their plot was this close to succeeding.” He held his fingers a half inch apart. “We were all to die in the morning.”

Dianora pondered the information. The question of what had destroyed the Argorn civilization, leading to the extinction of all sentient beings on the planet remained an unanswered enigma but she could see how a downward spiral would have begun once Garrin was dead.

“Now, I need to understand more about your fire weapon,” Garrin said with renewed energy, as if he’d brushed away all the past events. “Even the Craadil couldn’t stand against it today.”

“Actually I have two,” she said. “I brought an extra one for you.”

The men stared at her with varying degrees of surprise.

“This weapon of yours is a fearsome thing,” Garrin said, breaking the silence. “To have the ability to kill so many in a short space of time, from far away…I debate the honor of my using this device. I don’t question your honor, my lady. It’s a thing of your realm and you’re used to its aspects. No doubt your enemies have similar weapons and have shields against it.”

“Arrows and spears can kill from a distance,” Bakuln said. “The armaments represent a step up from the sword in this regard, which is an improvement over stone axes.”

Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to be required to argue with Garrin over the question of honor. A blaster was an advanced weapon and the advantages its use could provide him were so clear to her she had to bite back her first impulsive retorts.

“Point to you, my friend,” Garrin said to Bakuln. “But Dianora’s fire weapon can wreak great destruction. You all saw it in action earlier today. She’s the only reason we survived to fight another day.” He toyed with his wine goblet, drank a significant amount and slammed the cup down. “So be it. I will use your gift against the Craadil, for they are an unholy enemy and a danger to my entire kingdom. The gods wouldn’t have sent you and the weapon to me if I wasn’t supposed to use it. Fedorr I will fight in close quarters with my sword, however; and it will be a test of honor.”

With the point resolved, the group fell to serious planning. Dianora insisted Garrin needed to practice with the blaster. “You probably should too,” she said to Bakuln. “In case either of us falls, there need to be others who can shoot. The charge—the magic—can be exhausted but we won’t do much target practice and I did manage to bring a few recharges. Eventually the blasters will be useless but we’re not likely to have the problem any time soon.”

At the end of the evening Garrin did a quick recap. “So it’s agreed, we spend tomorrow getting organized for the raid and practicing with my lady’s weapons. In the evening we make a sortie from the fortress to the woods close to the city and my castle. We’ll spend the day in hiding and then make our way into the tunnels leading to the secret passages. At the appointed hour we’ll emerge from the hidden walkways, taking our enemy by surprise as they sit at their holiday dinner and by dawn the castle and the country will be mine again.”

“How can you be so sure killing the Craadil leader and his minions who happen to be in the castle will eliminate the problem?” Dianora asked. “Don’t we need to dispose of all of them?”

“The enemy are a strange race of beings,” Garrin said. “Much attached to their leaders. Not in the way my sword brothers and I have sworn our loyalty to each other but physically linked. The last one you killed yesterday was a prominent subchief, Meldo. All those in his clan will have been weakened by his death and may die on their own if a new subchief isn’t set in place promptly. There are rituals involved which create the bond, or so we believe.”

Dianora shuddered at the vision of the Craadil who’d almost killed her. He’d been a grotesque and terrifying opponent and she expected to have nightmares about him for a long time.

Garrin continued his explanation. “So yes, we will have to send patrols into the countryside to search out and eliminate any surviving Craadil but the stragglers will be much easier to kill with their leader and subchiefs gone.”

“It’s a bold plan, with many chances to fail,” Bakuln said, “But at this point we have no choice but to be bold.”

“And Lady Dianora’s fire weapon will tilt the balance in our favor,” one of the others said. “The Craadil have no answer for it.”

No one will, not for thousands of years.Dianora wondered how much her interference here was going to change the future of the Argorn on this planet and firmly squelched her scientific unease over the meddling. The ring had thrown her into this situation for reasons of its own and she wasn’t going to abandon Garrin now she knew him.

And had fallen in love with him.

When the meeting adjourned, Garrin escorted her to his rooms. It was late in the night and she walked to the window to gaze at the twin moons, riding high in the sky. “This dress is weighing me down,” she said over her shoulder to him. “All this fabric and layers. How do your women manage?”

He came to her, nuzzling her neck. “They don’t normally partake in battles or other strenuous activities, outside the bedroom of course.”

Turning to him, she shook her head. ”Trust me, your women partake, as you put it, in a lot of physical effort all day every day, keeping the household running, cooking, doing childcare—they may resemble swans to you, serene and gliding around in their finery, but underneath they’re working damn hard. And these confining clothes aren’t helpful.”

Face serious, he studied her. “You of course are free to wear whatever you please. Any woman who joins my military—and there are more than you might think—wears a modified version of our uniform and armor. I know you’re impatient to start making changes here but it’s best to move slowly. Set an example, with my full support, but remember we Argorn are a proud people, with a history stretching deep into the past and we have our reasons for why we are the way we are. I value your gifts and your magics more than I can say but you’re going to have to accept the fact one woman, even you, can only accomplish so much in a lifetime among us.” He touched a finger to the ring on her hand. “Perhaps you must ask yourself if the bargain is worth it to you while you have the chance to return to your own time. At some point the ring will refuse to take you, or so the tales from the past indicate.”

“Bargain?”

“To be the beloved of the king of the Argorn.” His grin was infectious and he pulled her close against him. “You see I count myself high.”

With a chuckle, Dianora allowed herself to be wooed, savoring the press of his erection against her body. She captured his lips and licked her tongue along the seam, which induced Garrin to open himself to her and she took full advantage. The kiss was everything she’d ever wanted, deep and sensual, full of promise. He removed her cumbersome dress and overdress and she felt free, standing before him in her lingerie. Eyes heavy with lust, Garrin surveyed her from head to toe.

“Truly I’ve been blessed to have you in my bed,” he said, picking her up and depositing her gently on the feather filled mattress. “And everywhere else but right now I can think of only one thing.”

Arms around his neck, she pulled him closer but the fabric of his tunic was scratchy against her skin. “Time for you to strip, my lord.” Dianora worked to help him out of his clothing, until he was naked beside her.

Propped on his elbow, he ran one hand along the curves of her body, studying her. “Beautiful.” Cupping her mound, he slid his fingers over the silken material of her panties and pushed aside the soaked gusset to give himself access to her folds. “Your underthings are more magic,” he said appreciatively as he stroked her sensitive skin. ”Never have I seen the like. Knowing you were clad in this fashion under the dress kept me in a state of semi arousal even while planning the raid. You distract me, Dianora, in a dangerous manner but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Silk and lace work wonders,” she said whimsically, curving her leg over him to give him better access and bring him closer to where she wanted him.

Garrin admired her breasts, barely contained in the bra. Taking his hand away from her clit, he unfastened the bra, puzzling over the fastener for a moment and grunting in male satisfaction when he got it open. Lowering his head, he tasted and teased while she lay beneath him. Dianora managed to get her hand on his manhood and stroked the pulsing length as firmly as she could. She was having a hard time concentrating as he enjoyed his current fascination with her breasts. Breaking off what he was doing, he suddenly rolled her onto her back and positioned himself above her, weeping tip of his cock poised at the entrance to her inner core. Dianora adjusted the way she was lying to give him better access and the next minute he’d plunged all the way inside with one powerful thrust. After that she had no time for conscious thought, only mindless pleasure, as Garrin drove in and out, holding her close and tight. She matched his rhythm, marveling how attuned to each other they were and when her orgasm came right before his, she let herself float on the waves of passion, secure in his arms.

Dianora stifled a sneeze.The secret passageways inside the Argorn castle walls were dank, dusty and no doubt harbored spiders. She tried not to think about that too much. The sneak attack party had been hidden here for hours, watching through tiny slits in the stone walls as servants set up the room for a big feast. Guests had come filing in, most of the Argorn wearing rebellious expressions as if attending under protest, but others strutting in with bravado, accompanied by a number of Craadil decked out in what evidently passed for finery in their culture. Several had gruesome ornamentation like the warrior she’d killed and his necklace of ears.

The leader of the Craadil came in after the room was full and the guests bowed low to him as he walked through the assembly to the head table. He was accompanied by a richly dressed human and Dianora hadn’t needed Garrin’s whisper to understand this was Fedorr, his traitorous cousin. She clutched her blaster more firmly and licked her dry lips, waiting for the signal to attack. Garrin was going to trigger the door mechanism, which would slide the entire wall aside and the soldiers would fall upon their enemies. She and Garrin would rake the area with blaster fire and the others would attack any survivors with swords. Elsewhere in the castle Bakuln and a second force waited, to engage the Craadil soldiers in their less exalted dining hall.

The blaster practice the day before had gone well, with Garrin and Bakuln immediately catching on to the use of the weapon and becoming the first Argorn marksmen. She’d offered to give her blaster to Bakuln in fact but Garrin had demurred, stating this was her fire magic and she must wield it in the battle to ensure the gods’ approval.

“Not that I want you risking yourself in a battle,” he said, “But this is a time where we must risk everything. There is no second chance.”

“I understand,” she’d said and she truly did, but waiting for the signal, Dianora had a hard time accepting the fact she was part of an attacking army. I was supposed to be the one reading the historical accounts thousands of years later, not a participant. But her days as an archaeologist were over, unless she wanted to do her own version of a dig in the places where Garrin had told her legends spoke of the AO visiting, centuries before this time. Would the ring take her even further into the past to see the AO if she asked? She wasn’t going to attempt the experiment. Even if it worked, the AO might confiscate the ring and leave her stranded in the prehistoric past or worse.

Garrin squeezed her hand and she forced her mind into the present. Tonight was a major holiday for the Craadil, hence the big gathering and their opportunity to launch a devastating surprise attack.

As their leader rose to make a toast or praise his gods or whatever he expected to do, Garrin pressed the lever in the wall, which hesitated for a heart stopping moment and then slid aside as it had been designed to do centuries ago. Dianora and Garrin fired into the assembly in front of them, sweeping the space with deadly blaster fire. Not knowing who was who among the Argorn attendees, she shot short bursts and targeted Craadil as best she could. Although they were now fully exposed since there was no longer a wall, Garrin’s forces took no casualties. The Craadil and their human allies had been caught truly off guard and although one or two survived the first barrage of blaster fire, taking shelter behind statuary or other barriers, when Garrin and his men leaped into the room from their position about five feet up, there was little resistance.

Dianora had been told to remain in the wall, which she did, sidling to the spot where the opening ended. Hunkered down, she forced herself to watch as individual battles took place in the dining chamber. Once or twice she shot a Craadil or a human gaining an advantage on their opponent among the king’s forces. Checking the charge on her blaster, she was relieved to see she had half left, despite the training she’d done yesterday and the firefight just now. The reloads were in her pocket, in case they were needed. Aside from the first barrage Garrin stuck to his resolve not to use the blaster, which was another reason Dianora forced herself to remain on overwatch. He was an incredible fighter, clearly a better swordsman than any other man in the room but she wasn’t about to watch him killed in an attack from behind or a sudden rush of the surviving Craadil.

Then it was over, although Dianora suspected the horror of what she’d forced herself to witness might have affected her sense of time. Only one man stood between Garrin and total success—his cousin Fedorr.

“You sought to take what was mine, cousin,” Garrin said, confronting him. His voice rang out strong in the big room. “The gods sent me help the last night in the dungeons—a sacred messenger and a deadly fire weapon from their own forges.” He waved a hand at the devastation around them while the other man breathed hard, bleeding from several wounds. Garrin’s orders had been most stringent that no one was to kill Fedorr but himself. “I’ve triumphed this night over the allies you invited from beyond the ocean. Yet I’m moved to be merciful in my victory. You and I will fight to the death—a clean death, not what you’d planned for me. If at this late moment the gods decide you should rule over Argorn, then your sword will prevail over mine and this will all be truly yours. Otherwise my sword will be your executioner and your lifeblood will wash away the stain on our family honor which you placed there.”

Fedorr launched himself at Garrin, probably hoping to catch him off-guard but the king was ready, his sword poised to deflect the mad flurry of blows.

Terrified, Dianora watched the death match, along with Garrin’s men, all silent. The only sound was the clanging of the swords and the heavy breathing of the two combatants. This was no ceremonial practice bout. They were each intent on killing the other although it was clear Garrin was the much better swordsman. Even Dianora could tell he wasn’t toying with Fedorr and the instant he had a clean opening, he took it, plunging his sword deep into the other man’s belly. Now she did avert her eyes as a great cheer went up from the assembled soldiers.

When she opened her eyes, Fedorr lay in a spreading pool of blood and Garrin was coming toward her. “It’s done, my queen. With your help the rightful ruler has been restored to the throne. Will you descend and join me in celebrating our victory?” He reached up and she slipped over the edge of the now revealed passageway so he could catch her. They kissed quickly before Garrin pivoted, one arm around her waist, to address his men. “The rest of the castle will have to be cleared of these Craadil vermin and any human sympathizers. Organize patrols and move out as we planned.”

With crisp salutes his sword brothers accepted the orders and deployed with their individual squads. Garrin kissed Dianora again and said, “Thanks to the gods for sending you to my side, my lady. This victory wouldn’t have happened without you. Now, I could leave you here guarded by five of my finest while we clear the castle or you can come with me.”

“I’m sticking with you,” she said, not hesitating for an instant.

“There may be danger, depending what enemy forces are left alive.”

“I’ve got my blaster.” She lifted her hand to show him. “And most importantly, I’m a trained observer and you’re going to need a history written of this day and what happened. I think it’s my job.”

Garrin seemed delighted by her answer. “Come then but stay close and remain alert. A solitary Craadil or adherent of Fedorr’s may hope to gain glory by striking at me or at you. I’ll not lose you now.”

“I’m not losing you either,” Dianora said. “Not after all this.”

He checked with the waiting squad of soldiers and the group headed off into the corridors of the castle, seeking any enemy holdouts, Dianora in the center of the unit, ready with her blaster. Her nerves were on edge but she meant what she’d said. There needed to be an account of this battle and what led up to it and the aftereffects and she was already itching to start writing. Of course she might have to do it longhand and then there’d be the issue of getting it translated into Argorn but she wasn’t going to worry about the details right now. I didn’t really want to be an archaeologist writing about long vanished civilizations—I wanted to live in one and have adventures.

Late in thenight Garrin stood on the balcony overlooking the giant public square of the city and addressed his people, Dianora at his side and his inner circle of sword brothers behind them. All Dianora could see below them was a sea of torches and upturned faces.

“I have rid our land of the Craadil invaders and the Argorn who worked with them and my pledge to you is never to allow this to happen again. We’ll send an expedition to the Craadil homeland across the seas and take the war to them if any remain alive. The gods blessed me and enabled this victory by sending their envoy, the lady Dianora, from another realm. With her magics and her help, I have been able to prevail this night.” He drew her forward and there were cheers from the crowd below. “She has chosen not to return to her realm but to remain here as my wife and queen and together we’ll work tirelessly to restore Argorn to its former state of peace and prosperity.”

He kissed her and the crowd yelled its approval. Dianora wasn’t sure if she was thrilled or terrified to be suddenly and publicly acclaimed as Garrin’s mate and fellow ruler. It wasn’t a proposal exactly but any man who would tell his entire kingdom she was his choice got points in her book. They’d kind of moved past the point where he needed to ask her for her hand. The ring had taken care of the formalities in a sense. Relieved she wasn’t expected to address the crowd, she stood and smiled and waved, the entire scene tinged with unreality.