REVIEW - Judge, 23rd Annual Writer's Digest Self-Published Book Awards, 2015
Beautiful cover image, very detailed and rich, with the shine on the sword and textures in the fabrics. Well done. The book opens with a strong sense of setting. Author has put a great deal of effort into painting realistic settings, adding texture, scent and temperature to create a fully realized world so intrinsic to the story. Very well done. Reader finds it easy to get immersed in this world, feeling like an involved observer thanks to the excellent sensory details. Author does a great job of unspooling the social strata of this world. We get excellent guidance via dialogue in the all-important positioning of each character here. The formality of the characters’ speech adds a beautiful level of other-era and creates a hierarchy via speech patterns and addressing patterns. Well done. Author has put a lot of work into the dialogue, and it never fails to illuminate the many layers of the story. Excellent. A bit of drag two-thirds of the way through gets saved by the danger and action of the troll battle, which is perfectly timed to rev up the story and propel us to the conclusion. Great momentum there. An engaging story, and author wisely gives us the list of characters at the end to prevent any confusion. With such a large cast of characters, this is important to prevent the reader from being overwhelmed. Well done. An engaging read. Structure, Organization, and Pacing: 4 Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar: 5 Production Quality and Cover Design: 5 Plot and Story Appeal: 5 Character Appeal and Development: 5 Voice and Writing Style: 5 |
Review by Kathryn Bennett
for Readers’ Favorite Lioness of Kell by Paul E. Horsman introduces us to Basil, the prince warlock's teenage son who is content with his life of study and magic. He has a wonderful set of rooms, books, scrolls, everything he needs to be happy. That is until he is summoned and a new set of demands is placed on him and it turns his world upside down. With fear nipping at him from this upturn, he runs away and while on board ship he meets Yarwan, a handsome midshipman who brings about feelings Basil never knew he had. Meanwhile, Maud of the M'Brannoe, a strong young warrior, is asked by Basil's father to find a boy from a pirate town that could be the double of his own son. Paths eventually collide and the four young people must work together because they will either end up dead or world heroes. Action from start to finish is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of this fast paced adventure by Paul E. Horsman, with bright colorful characters in a great world. I love Maud and her strength as a character. I can honestly say when I was a teenager I pictured myself like her in my fantasies so she is the character with whom I most felt a connection. The whole cast of this amazing world is fantastic, however, and if you want to read a rich and colorful story with its own mythos to keep you hooked, this will be the book for you. The flow is fantastic and there is always something going on; you never get a moment's pause in this fast paced tale! A truly fantastic fantasy ride. 
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Secure in his position as the Prince-warlock's son, seventeen-year-old Basil is content with his solitary life of study and magic. He has a comfortable set of rooms in his father's tower, he has his books and scrolls, and he is perfectly happy. Until the Warlockry Council summons him, and their demands sets his whole, safe existence tottering. Scared and unsure, he decides to run, and takes the first ship out of town. On board he meets Yarwan, the handsome midshipman, who awakens feelings he never knew existed.
Maud of the M'Brannoe, at eighteen already a mighty warrioress, is about to graduate as a Lioness, a special duty officer answering to the Kell Queen and no one else. The Prince-warlock asks her to fetch a certain boy from a pirate town, who could act as a double for his son. On their way back, someone sabotages their airship and the two find themselves marooned in an ill-reputed forest. Together, the young lioness and Jurgis the lookalike battle their way to the coast and a ship home, while finding solace in each other's arms.
Then the four young people meet, and Basil learns of a spell that might help him. Only the spell's creator, the infamous Arrangh Warlock, disappeared nearly a century ago. When the four young people decide to go searching for him, they start on a path leading to an old war and unsolved mysteries that could heal the traumas of their own dysfunctional societies.
Or kill them.
A spirited fantasy story of high adventure and romantic love in a world where both magic and early modern technology flourish.
A Standalone Novel.
Maud of the M'Brannoe, at eighteen already a mighty warrioress, is about to graduate as a Lioness, a special duty officer answering to the Kell Queen and no one else. The Prince-warlock asks her to fetch a certain boy from a pirate town, who could act as a double for his son. On their way back, someone sabotages their airship and the two find themselves marooned in an ill-reputed forest. Together, the young lioness and Jurgis the lookalike battle their way to the coast and a ship home, while finding solace in each other's arms.
Then the four young people meet, and Basil learns of a spell that might help him. Only the spell's creator, the infamous Arrangh Warlock, disappeared nearly a century ago. When the four young people decide to go searching for him, they start on a path leading to an old war and unsolved mysteries that could heal the traumas of their own dysfunctional societies.
Or kill them.
A spirited fantasy story of high adventure and romantic love in a world where both magic and early modern technology flourish.
A Standalone Novel.
ABOUT THE WORLD
The background and the peoples are purely imaginary. It is a parallel world and its inhabitants are the produce of an alternate development, based on the author's (Dutch) imagination.
Kell(s): The tall, bronze-brown people once of the Radhaijan Plains in old Kell. Castle dwellers, famed for the fighting prowess of their warrioresses and the quality of their ordnance.
Vanhaari: The reclusive warlock people, leading lives of study in their tower at Winsproke. They are of small statue and possess curiously gray complexions.
(Coastal) Chorwaynie(s): The coppery-brown coastal people of the Chorwaynie Archipelago. A nation of sharp merchants and privateers.
Jentakan Chorwaynies: The golden-brown inland people of the Chorwaynie Archipelago. Fishers and sailors, their painted fabrics are priceless works of art.
Thali: The dark brown people of the frozen south. Inventors and technicians, who develop wonders like steam engines, airships and such.
Unwaari: The Singers of Aera, mages, living in continental Unwaar. They are Vanhaar’s brother people, though far more religious.
Garthan(s): The original inhabitants of the High Kingdom of Malgarth. A rural people of pinkish-white to beige complexions.
The Five Tradeports (Brisa, Reveul, Lismer, Dibloon and Veurdel); hotbeds of piracy and crime. Populated by Garthans, mixed with renegades and half-bloods of all the peoples in the region.
(NB: Given human diversity, people’s complexions are averages, not absolutes.)
The background and the peoples are purely imaginary. It is a parallel world and its inhabitants are the produce of an alternate development, based on the author's (Dutch) imagination.
Kell(s): The tall, bronze-brown people once of the Radhaijan Plains in old Kell. Castle dwellers, famed for the fighting prowess of their warrioresses and the quality of their ordnance.
Vanhaari: The reclusive warlock people, leading lives of study in their tower at Winsproke. They are of small statue and possess curiously gray complexions.
(Coastal) Chorwaynie(s): The coppery-brown coastal people of the Chorwaynie Archipelago. A nation of sharp merchants and privateers.
Jentakan Chorwaynies: The golden-brown inland people of the Chorwaynie Archipelago. Fishers and sailors, their painted fabrics are priceless works of art.
Thali: The dark brown people of the frozen south. Inventors and technicians, who develop wonders like steam engines, airships and such.
Unwaari: The Singers of Aera, mages, living in continental Unwaar. They are Vanhaar’s brother people, though far more religious.
Garthan(s): The original inhabitants of the High Kingdom of Malgarth. A rural people of pinkish-white to beige complexions.
The Five Tradeports (Brisa, Reveul, Lismer, Dibloon and Veurdel); hotbeds of piracy and crime. Populated by Garthans, mixed with renegades and half-bloods of all the peoples in the region.
(NB: Given human diversity, people’s complexions are averages, not absolutes.)
Lioness of Kell
Author: Paul E. Horsman
For Ages 15+
Editor: Emily Nemchick
Cover Design: Ravven
Publisher: Red Rune Books (2015)
Published as: print book, e-book
Pages: ca. 440
Price: $ 16.99 (print), $ 3.99 (e-book)
Author: Paul E. Horsman
For Ages 15+
Editor: Emily Nemchick
Cover Design: Ravven
Publisher: Red Rune Books (2015)
Published as: print book, e-book
Pages: ca. 440
Price: $ 16.99 (print), $ 3.99 (e-book)
CHAPTER 1 - ASSIGNMENT
Lioness Maud of the M’Brannoe stood gripping the railing, moving easily with the motion of the ship as they entered Winsproke’s harbor mouth. Breathlessly, she gazed at her first foreign city, oblivious to the confusion of pigtailed Chorwaynies around her preparing for mooring. The sailors chattered and laughed in a thick accent, while they worked without disturbing her privacy.
Maud was a handsome, strapping girl. Her skin glowed a warm, red-bronze and her short, straight hair was dyed the scarlet of active duty. She wore the close-fitting, well-waxed armor of her lioness rank and a big sword strapped to her back. Yet underneath the fierceness of a Kell warrioress she was just nineteen years old, and her heart hammered with the excitement of her first foray into the high kingdom of Malgarth.
Winsproke, city of magic! she thought, leaning forward. The Vanhaari warlock town looked very different from old Tar Kell, her cave-built home. Here were no compact communal clan houses. She had been told the Vanhaari lived in families, like they all did before the war. Maybe that explained why every house she saw shone in the most garish colors as if the residents wanted to emphasize their individuality. Only the immense warlock tower in the middle was dull gray and it cast a shadow over the town.
‘Lioness.’ The rough voice told Maud her superior had come on deck. ‘To me.’
The veteran was a wiry, dark brown woman in a lacquered cuirass, black tiger striped skirt and boots. Besides her sword, she carried a short spear under her arm.
As Maud turned to join her, sailors took her place at the railing, and she felt a stab of guilt.
She gave a slight bow, acknowledging the older woman’s authority. ‘I was in the way,’ she said, lifting het chin.
‘Yes.’ Veteran Tigress Hala’s lined face was impassive. ‘Such inattention can be dangerous in action. And spare me your huffiness, girl; you’re not a full lioness yet. As long as we’re in the field you’re my responsibility. Behave yourself.’
Maud swallowed at the rebuke. ‘Yes, Veteran.’
As soon as the crew had lowered the gangway, the two warrioresses jumped onto the stone quay. Hala stood for a moment, rubbing her cheeks with her knuckles. Then she growled and strode into the city.
Maud hurried after her, reveling in Winsproke’s sights and smells. The sun’s play on the colorful buildings left her breathless. A cacophony of purples and pinks, of reds, ochre, bright greens and blues, against which the people themselves were gray shadows who went about their business as joyless as professional mourners.
These can’t be warlocks, Maud thought. They must be the common Vanhaari; servants and clerks. Surely the warlocks will be grander than these drudges.
As they approached the main square, hawkers filled the street with their cries and the rattle of their laden pushcarts. The veteran barged through the crowd with little regard for the vendors and their unwieldy transports. Maud squared her shoulders against the angry curses and fists shaken in their wake, and followed the older woman to the warlock tower.
Close up, the tower was even more impressive than seen from the sea—five hundred feet of stone blocks, rising up to the sky.
‘So high; it’s humiliating.’ Maud gazed at the top of the tower, almost poking the clouds. ‘I don’t like feeling small.’
The veteran snorted. ‘It’s only a building.’ She studied the walls, and then growled. ‘Openings all over it, but no damned front door.’
As they looked, a portion of the wall shimmered, and a handsome woman in a flowing blue dress stepped through the seemingly solid stones. She was alone, but speaking softly, gesturing with a rolled up scroll as if arguing with an invisible companion.
Hala gave an exasperated grunt, and hurried to intercept her. The woman, immersed in her one-sided discussion, almost walked into the veteran, but Hala sidestepped swiftly and saluted.
‘Excuse me, ma’am. I saw you coming out of the tower, but how do we get inside?’
The warlock blinked in apparent confusion. ‘Eh? Oh, ask the spellscribe.’
Hala scowled at the vague answer. ‘The spellscribe?’
Flustered, the woman turned, setting the jewelry on her forehead jingling as she waved her scroll at a nearby wooden stall. ‘Him. The fellow sells penny spells to the common folk. Useless, but the people like them. He pays for his doghouse by doubling as the tower’s doorwarden.’ Without another glance, she walked on, waving and mouthing.
Hala lifted her eyes to the sky. ‘I hate dealing with those foggy-minded finger-wrigglers.’ She marched to the booth and leaned forward.
‘Careful!’ A gray face snarled at them as the stacks of little cards on the countertop wobbled. ‘Them spells be the work of days, you ignorant woman! Want to buy one?’
The old warrioress inspected the man. ‘I’m Veteran Tigress Hala of the M’Brannoe, for my appointment with the prince-warlock.’
The spellscribe made a disgusted sound as he adjusted his glasses. Careful not to knock over the stacks of handwritten cards himself, he opened a large book. Page by page, he went through the scribbles, mumbling.
‘There’s no Lala here,’ he said at last, peering up at the big Kell over the rim of his glasses.
The veteran folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the booth. It creaked alarmingly, but nothing disastrous happened.
‘Hala,’ she said. ‘With an H. I’ve got nothing else to do today, so I don’t mind waiting. I wouldn’t know about the prince-warlock, though.’
As if the veteran had summoned it with her words, a pink frog appeared on the booth’s counter. ‘Show them in, you limp-brain,’ the familiar croaked, hopping around the stacked spells in agitation. ‘You’ve been told the Splendor is expecting a Kell.’ At that, it winked away again.
The spellscribe’s face turned splotchy with rage. He waved at the tower, and a massive pair of doors appeared. ‘Go on; get yourselves inside!’ Then he squealed as the warrioress bumped her hip against the booth, scattering the written cards into the square.
‘Idiot,’ Hala muttered as she marched to the now visible entrance. ‘Doesn’t want strangers in his magic castle. And he’s ugly as a newborn mole rat, so he must be at bottom level.’
Maud frowned. ‘Why’s that?’
‘You should’ve paid notice to your lessons, clansister.’ Hala’s voice carried a hint of loathing. For a moment, Maud thought the disgust was directed at her, but the veteran’s next words dispelled her fear.
‘The warlocks are beauty-besotted. The higher they come, the prettier they must look. Made-pretty, by magic.’ Hala made as if to spit, but restrained herself. ‘Never let their strange fancies fool you, though, girl. They are still deadly foes.’ She looked back at the spellscribe, desperately trying to gather his little cards before the wind caught them. ‘At least most of them.’
Inside, the tower was as impressively big as the outside. Maud stared around at the hall. Large enough to gather an army in, her training said. And all of it empty.
A plain Vanhaari rose from the desk beside the entrance. On his shoulder sat a pink frog. ‘Old fool, old fool’, it croaked, while its long tongue shot in and out.
‘Quiet, Rosa,’ the man said. ‘Apologies for that incompetent fellow outside, Veteran. Please follow me upstairs. His Splendicity the Prince-warlock is eagerly awaiting your arrival.’
Maud stared up at the winding stairs, disappearing in the distance. It’s no place for those with a weak heart.
‘What floor does the prince-warlock live?’ she said.
The man looked at her. ‘All the way up, I’m afraid. There are twenty floors. At the top is White Lumentis’ temple; we only go there on feast days. The Splendor lives on the nineteenth floor, and his son the Spellwarden has the eighteenth. All other warlocks share the rest, in accordance with their rank.’
On the first floor, one of the many openings in the tower walls gave a fine view over the city.
‘What are those doors for?’ Maud asked, still curious. ‘Warlocks don’t fly, do they?’
Their guide frowned. ‘Before the War we did—broomsticks and flying carpets. We lost the skill of carpet making when the enemy killed all weavers. Our towers still have flight doors, though.’ Then, as if the subject embarrassed him, he handed them to another underling, who escorted them to the next floor.
Eighteen levels of ascending magnificence later, Maud had lost count of the steps. Without speaking, they followed a person of dazzling beauty to the nineteenth floor. Here, the air was so pure it made Maud giddy from breathing it. Her boots sank deep into rich carpets, and rows of blown-glass figures along the walls made her feel clumsy with their fragility.
They followed the circular corridor to a pair of doors, flanked by flowering plants bearing pink and violet blooms. Still mute, their guide touched the polished wood and drifted away.
‘Was that a female or a male?’ Maud whispered to the veteran while the doors swung open.
‘Both and neither,’ a warm voice said from inside the room.
Maud paused, hand to mouth, chagrined for being overheard.
The voice disregarded her confusion. ‘It considers itself beauty incarnate, though its appearance is an illusion. It is but a mid-level warlock, lacking any true distinction. A capable floor manager, though; that suffices.’
A shadowy figure at the window turned and sat down behind a large desk. Prince-warlock Argyr of Winsproke was a handsome man, with a silvery face and black hair combed back to his shoulders. His robe was of a deep purple hue and the stars woven into it twinkled like the night sky when he moved.
Maud looked in awe at the rich paneling and the framed images of strange places on the walls. Some place he has here.
Her superior didn’t even glance at all the trappings. She stepped forward and saluted. ‘Veteran Tigress Hala of the M’Brannoe, by appointment.’
Argyr folded his hands on the desktop, and his lips formed a small smile. ‘You are prompt; that is promising.’
A fine voice, Maud thought, standing at attention beside Hala with her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Done by magic, as is all of him, I suppose.
The prince-warlock turned his head to look at her as if he’d read her thoughts. ‘Who is your companion, Veteran?’
‘The Lioness-cadet Maud of the M’Brannoe is my second. A field training assignment.’
‘Ah, a trainee; that explains her tender age,’ the prince-warlock said. ‘No matter. I asked the Brannoe Queen for a capable person to execute a minor but delicate duty, and she sent you. I want you to find a boy for me.’
The veteran raised an eyebrow. ‘A boy, Your Splendicity?’
Prince-warlock Argyr gave a small smile. ‘You do not think naughty thoughts, do you, Veteran?’ He rose and walked to a tall mirror in the corner of his office.
‘A boy.’ With a wave of his hand, an image appeared of a young male about Maud’s age. He was small and slender, his long, wavy red hair accentuating the alabaster regularity of his face and his large eyes.
Divine Otha! So white! That can’t be natural. Still, he is… pretty. Very pretty. To her disgust, Maud felt her loins react to the boy’s delicate beauty. Keep your pants on, girl. This time. But the mirror reflected her face next to his, and she couldn’t stop her breath speeding up.
Argyr cleared his throat. ‘To be clear, the boy in the mirror is my son Basil, the Spellwarden. You will notice his fine features; he was conceived in the image of Lumentis the Light, God of Knowledge. A truly highborn effect, as befits his position.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I have never seen the one you are to fetch; I only know where you may find him. He should look much like my son; a cruder version, but the similarity will be there. I have need of this other boy.’ He paused, looking at the two women. ‘It is nothing improper, or dangerous. The Spellwarden has to go somewhere, but he never leaves his apartments. I seek a double to take his place; that is all. As there is some urgency to the matter, I have ordered my dirigible to expect you.’
‘That’s most efficient,’ Hala said. ‘Ah, where do we go to, if I may ask?’
‘The Five Tradeports. To be precise—Port Brisa.’
‘That cesspool?’ The veteran pressed her lips into a thin line. ‘One more reason to make it quick. One finds more sins among the Garthans in the Five Tradeports than anywhere in the high kingdom.’
Argyr smiled. ‘But you won’t be tempted, Veteran. Now will you?’
Hala moved her shoulders. ‘I won’t, but I’m not a young Kell anymore. We are lusty lasses in our youth, Splendicity. That’s why our juniors won’t ever be allowed to leave Kell without an elder in command.’
Neither of them looked at her, but Maud felt the blood rush to her face. Lusty! As if she couldn’t concentrate on her orders. Her eyes strayed to the boy in the mirror. This will be the hells of a job. She pulled her thoughts back in time to see how the prince-warlock handed Hala a pouch and a signed contract. The veteran saluted, wheeled around and marched from the room. Maud followed her, without missing a step, fuming in silence.
‘I heard you breathing,’ Hala said as they walked down the stairs unattended. ‘Like a bitch in heat. Forget it, you hear? We’re on duty.’
Maud sighed. ‘I know. But by Gorm, it’s not fair.’
‘Lass, if you need a screw, there are males enough. But not the contract. Understood?’
‘Of course.’ Maud swallowed her chagrin.
‘And not in Brisa. That town isn’t safe for innocent young girls.’
‘Innocent?’ I turned nineteen; I’m not a child anymore.
Hala growled. ‘Pure as a nightwing’s tear.’ She halted and gripped Maud’s arm. ‘You don’t fool me, lass. The only boys you’ve laid were Kells and our males are meek as lambs. In the other lands they’re still wild and believe me, they don’t tame easily. You may be almost a full lioness, but this is your first assignment outside Kell, and you’re as wet as a frog in a pool. So no experiments, no funny games, no nothing. You’re on active service, and if you try anything, I’ll kick your butt back to Tar Kell. You’re not going to shame me. Am I clear?’
Maud took a deep breath. ‘Yes, Veteran,’ she said. ‘Perfectly clear.’
CHAPTER 7 - THE DAISEE
At daybreak, Maud woke with no more than a grunt from Jurgis to acknowledge her existence. They ate in chilly silence, packed up and walked on. The sun shone, but her rays seemed without warmth. Damn you, she wanted to shout. Why don’t you understand? But Jurgis was angry, and he made it clear he wasn’t about to stop showing it. That night he didn’t wait for her, but chose his own tree and lay down without a word.
Again, Maud slept badly, and the next sunup started as a repeat of the day before. Jurgis rose cold and formal, and sat in morose silence as he munched his bread and honey. Maud looked at him and suppressed the urge to slap him.
‘Can’t you see it from my side?’ she burst out. ‘I’m ordered to deliver you safe and unharmed into the prince-warlock’s hands. I cannot, must not touch you.’
‘Have you tried to see it from my side?’ Jurgis bit into his bread and chewed for a moment. ‘I don’t need your protectiveness; I’m perfectly able to take care of myself. You’re overdoing it, girl; that irritates the crap out of me. You forget I’ve been my own man for years.’
Maud gritted her teeth. ‘You’re a man, that’s just the problem. Men are weak, to be cherished. I have to protect you; that’s a woman’s duty.’
Jurgis sprayed bits of stale bread as he laughed. ‘Where I come from, it’s the other way round.’ For a moment, he was busy swallowing. ‘Why are you Kell women such bullies?’
‘We’re not!’ she retorted. ‘We... I guess we are used to being on top.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘What do you know of our history?’
‘Of the Kells? Nothing at all,’ Jurgis said. ‘My education stopped when my father lost all his money.’
Maud paused a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘Before the war we lived on the Radhaijan Plains in old Kell, on the continent. We were a nation of independent clans, each led by a clan lord, owner of great estates that had been his for generations. Each lord employed one or more warspinners; ruthless men, wise in the magic of battle.’ Maud looked at Jurgis. ‘These lords were quarrelsome. They fought easily, over honor, land, mining rights, over things big and small. Little wars grew into big wars, in which castles and towns burned and too many people died.’ Maud shifted, feeling uncomfortable. Nowadays, these tales were no longer heroic, but remembered with shame.
‘Then, out of the blue, the Unwaari came. Their magic was different from ours and they flew through the air on their carpets, raining death from above. Our castles were no protection, our spinners’ magic proved lacking, but our courage was hot and many more of our men died. In the end we were faced with flight or extermination. We took to our ships and fled to Malgarth. Of twenty clans, ten got away; less than nine thousand people, mostly women, elders and children.
‘The high king gave us a wild and unused stretch of land, and there each clan built a new home. The women worked; the men… Most just sat, unable to take even simple decisions, as if in losing the war they had also lost their manhood. It meant the survival of the clans became the women’s responsibility. From their midst they chose a ruler to unite them and she became the first Kell Queen.
‘The Malgarth government, hearing we were a martial people, ordered us to provide troops for their army. With the men no longer able, the queen arranged the strongest females into fighting units and sent them to serve the high king.
‘Somehow, it worked. The strangeness wore away quickly and we realized we liked the life of a warrioress. The wisewomen developed an initiation rite with spells and incantations to strengthen us. That’s why warrioresses are taller and stronger than our sister Kells in other professions. Only…’ She paused again. ‘Those rites harden our muscles and heighten our prowess. They delay our monthly cycle till our early twenties, which is handy in the field, but at the same time they make us highly virile. After our first bleeding our bodies settle down, but until then we fighting girls are sexually eager.’ She saw Jurgis’ eyes studying her and sighed. What does he think? Does it disgust him?
Quickly she went on. ‘Our men never got over their loss of honor and after a while we became used to their weakness and lack of will. They huddled together in their barracks, unable to act on their own and we let them. We had our lives, our country to rebuild and if our males were useless, we did it without them.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s nearly a century now. We don’t know any better than that males are soft and listless; good for only the simplest of chores, and to relieve our needs.’
‘I am no Kell male,’ Jurgis said, and his face was hard. ‘I’m not soft and listless, and I refuse to be dominated. You and I, we can only be equals.’
Maud rocked back on her heels and stared at him. Equals with a male? True, he hasn’t disappointed me yet. He is small, but not a weakling. I... What is he doing? He’s taking off his shirt. Gods, he does look tasty. No! He’s... ‘Stop that!’ she said hoarsely. ‘Keep your pants on.’
‘I’m not your passive male,’ Jurgis said in a steely voice, and he threw his clothing aside. ‘Come, I’ll show you the difference.’
She jumped to her feet. ‘Damn it, boy. Stop goading me.’
His smile was grim as he stepped forward and let his thumb caress her biceps.
She gasped as a long shiver ran through her body.
Then his fingers went to the clasps of her breastplate.
Hot anger burst in her breast. ‘Stop! I can do that myself.’ Quickly she loosened the fastenings and let the heavy leather fall to the ground. Her boots followed and then her pants. Equally naked, she stood opposite him. Her heart threatened to burst; even with her first lover her feelings hadn’t been this strong. To the hells with the rules! she thought fleetingly. With two steps, she was at him. Her hands grasped his torso and, moaning, she pulled him to her. Their bodies met, and they made love with an urgency that surprised them both.
At daybreak, Maud woke with no more than a grunt from Jurgis to acknowledge her existence. They ate in chilly silence, packed up and walked on. The sun shone, but her rays seemed without warmth. Damn you, she wanted to shout. Why don’t you understand? But Jurgis was angry, and he made it clear he wasn’t about to stop showing it. That night he didn’t wait for her, but chose his own tree and lay down without a word.
Again, Maud slept badly, and the next sunup started as a repeat of the day before. Jurgis rose cold and formal, and sat in morose silence as he munched his bread and honey. Maud looked at him and suppressed the urge to slap him.
‘Can’t you see it from my side?’ she burst out. ‘I’m ordered to deliver you safe and unharmed into the prince-warlock’s hands. I cannot, must not touch you.’
‘Have you tried to see it from my side?’ Jurgis bit into his bread and chewed for a moment. ‘I don’t need your protectiveness; I’m perfectly able to take care of myself. You’re overdoing it, girl; that irritates the crap out of me. You forget I’ve been my own man for years.’
Maud gritted her teeth. ‘You’re a man, that’s just the problem. Men are weak, to be cherished. I have to protect you; that’s a woman’s duty.’
Jurgis sprayed bits of stale bread as he laughed. ‘Where I come from, it’s the other way round.’ For a moment, he was busy swallowing. ‘Why are you Kell women such bullies?’
‘We’re not!’ she retorted. ‘We... I guess we are used to being on top.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘What do you know of our history?’
‘Of the Kells? Nothing at all,’ Jurgis said. ‘My education stopped when my father lost all his money.’
Maud paused a moment to gather her thoughts. ‘Before the war we lived on the Radhaijan Plains in old Kell, on the continent. We were a nation of independent clans, each led by a clan lord, owner of great estates that had been his for generations. Each lord employed one or more warspinners; ruthless men, wise in the magic of battle.’ Maud looked at Jurgis. ‘These lords were quarrelsome. They fought easily, over honor, land, mining rights, over things big and small. Little wars grew into big wars, in which castles and towns burned and too many people died.’ Maud shifted, feeling uncomfortable. Nowadays, these tales were no longer heroic, but remembered with shame.
‘Then, out of the blue, the Unwaari came. Their magic was different from ours and they flew through the air on their carpets, raining death from above. Our castles were no protection, our spinners’ magic proved lacking, but our courage was hot and many more of our men died. In the end we were faced with flight or extermination. We took to our ships and fled to Malgarth. Of twenty clans, ten got away; less than nine thousand people, mostly women, elders and children.
‘The high king gave us a wild and unused stretch of land, and there each clan built a new home. The women worked; the men… Most just sat, unable to take even simple decisions, as if in losing the war they had also lost their manhood. It meant the survival of the clans became the women’s responsibility. From their midst they chose a ruler to unite them and she became the first Kell Queen.
‘The Malgarth government, hearing we were a martial people, ordered us to provide troops for their army. With the men no longer able, the queen arranged the strongest females into fighting units and sent them to serve the high king.
‘Somehow, it worked. The strangeness wore away quickly and we realized we liked the life of a warrioress. The wisewomen developed an initiation rite with spells and incantations to strengthen us. That’s why warrioresses are taller and stronger than our sister Kells in other professions. Only…’ She paused again. ‘Those rites harden our muscles and heighten our prowess. They delay our monthly cycle till our early twenties, which is handy in the field, but at the same time they make us highly virile. After our first bleeding our bodies settle down, but until then we fighting girls are sexually eager.’ She saw Jurgis’ eyes studying her and sighed. What does he think? Does it disgust him?
Quickly she went on. ‘Our men never got over their loss of honor and after a while we became used to their weakness and lack of will. They huddled together in their barracks, unable to act on their own and we let them. We had our lives, our country to rebuild and if our males were useless, we did it without them.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s nearly a century now. We don’t know any better than that males are soft and listless; good for only the simplest of chores, and to relieve our needs.’
‘I am no Kell male,’ Jurgis said, and his face was hard. ‘I’m not soft and listless, and I refuse to be dominated. You and I, we can only be equals.’
Maud rocked back on her heels and stared at him. Equals with a male? True, he hasn’t disappointed me yet. He is small, but not a weakling. I... What is he doing? He’s taking off his shirt. Gods, he does look tasty. No! He’s... ‘Stop that!’ she said hoarsely. ‘Keep your pants on.’
‘I’m not your passive male,’ Jurgis said in a steely voice, and he threw his clothing aside. ‘Come, I’ll show you the difference.’
She jumped to her feet. ‘Damn it, boy. Stop goading me.’
His smile was grim as he stepped forward and let his thumb caress her biceps.
She gasped as a long shiver ran through her body.
Then his fingers went to the clasps of her breastplate.
Hot anger burst in her breast. ‘Stop! I can do that myself.’ Quickly she loosened the fastenings and let the heavy leather fall to the ground. Her boots followed and then her pants. Equally naked, she stood opposite him. Her heart threatened to burst; even with her first lover her feelings hadn’t been this strong. To the hells with the rules! she thought fleetingly. With two steps, she was at him. Her hands grasped his torso and, moaning, she pulled him to her. Their bodies met, and they made love with an urgency that surprised them both.
CHAPTER 9 - SEAMIST
Basil lowered the sextant as the stars he was observing were blotted out and a dark gray wall came rolling over the ship. At one moment there was a light haze barely hindering his sight, next the Willowdrake sailed in a thick fog, and the world shrunk to the tip of his nose.
‘Yarwan?’ he said, suddenly nervous. Then he felt Yarwan’s fingers gripping his hand.
‘I’m here.’
‘Damn it,’ Basil said, grateful for the contact. ‘Is this mist real? I don’t feel any magic, but …’
‘It’s very real,’ said Yarwan’s voice close by. ‘It’s called seamist. Very local and very sudden.’
‘I can’t see a thing. How does the captain know where he’s sailing?’
‘He doesn’t.’ All at once, Yarwan sounded worried. ‘Mist is mortally dangerous, this close to Alfway Island. We don’t want to drift into its toothy side.’
‘Toothy?’
‘Rocks that can rip out our bottom.’
Basil thought. ‘Would an image of the sea around us help him?’
‘Of course, but that doesn’t exist.’
‘Quick, take me to the captain.’
Yarwan’s hand was strong and warm, and dragged Basil aft, past silent shapes staring into the treacherous fog. Unerringly, he found the ladder to the quarterdeck. ‘Captain?’
‘Be silent.’ Naching’s voice sounded muffled. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Captain,’ Basil said urgently. ‘You need eyes. I can make a map for you; I only need a bowl of water.’
‘Will a bucket do?’ Yarwan left him and came back with a fire bucket. He grabbed Basil’s free hand and put it on the rim.
‘Thanks,’ Basil said. ‘Here, hold my staff.’ He sent out his senses, in a widening circle. His hands moved over the bucket and suddenly a vague light shone from the water.
‘Captain, look,’ Yarwan said softly. ‘He’s made a map.’
‘What?’ Naching joined them. ‘What’s that?’
‘The little spot is us,’ Basil said. It felt queer, doing this. Part of his mind was speaking to the captain while the rest was roaming the area around the ship. ‘The sea is empty for now. You see the rippling of the waves? It’s a strong image; I’m pretty proud of that.’
‘By the gods, yes! Is this thing accurate?’
‘It’s a true projection, Captain. I see warmth with this spell. The island is warmer than the sea, so it’s darker to me. I transfer what I see onto the water in the bucket.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘There’s a large mass in the distance. That must be the land.’
‘Yes,’ Naching said, sounding strained as he stared at the little shadow appearing in the bucket. ‘Six points to port,’ he said aloud.
‘Six port it is,’ the helmsman echoed.
They saw the little spot change direction.
‘Divine gods,’ the captain said. And then, urgently, ‘There must be a bay.’
‘We’re going around a headland now; I see the coast receding behind it. It looks like a bay; a half circle.’
‘That’s right. Now search for some reefs, about a mile west from the headland. You can recognize them by the foam. Do you see them?’ Dead silence followed.
‘Five rocks in a row?’
‘That’s them.’
‘They’re well to the right.’ A silence. ‘They’re behind us.’
Naching sighed. ‘Good.’
‘There’s a ship across the bay. A small ship, one mast. Plenty of room yet.’
‘Standby for lowering the topsail!’ the captain shouted, his voice muffled by the mist. ‘We’re past the headland?’
‘Almost,’ Basil said.
‘Lower topsail!’
‘We’re past.’
‘Out anchors fore and aft!’
Faint voices answered. ‘Anchors down.’
‘We’re not moving anymore,’ Basil said and broke off the sighting.
‘You did it!’ Out of the fog came the captain’s hand and gripped Basil’s. ‘Thanks, that’s a great relief, Spellwarden.’
Basil blinked at the sudden use of his title. Then he grinned. ‘A pleasure, Captain.’
‘You were a wonder,’ Yarwan whispered, and Basil felt two hands on his shoulders. A quick kiss brushed his mouth. Before he could react, Yarwan had stepped back. His mind awhirl, Basil dipped his suddenly clammy hands in the cold water. It didn’t help against the racing of his heart, however.