Clayton Emery - Sword Play

Angriman frowned, twitched his jowls, pondered, then shook his head and pronounced, "Thank you. The king has already concerned himself with Greenwillow. Sadly, her missive from the High Elves is one of defiance, which is not permitted. She will be held for punishment. You are free to go. We shall return your-"

"Go? Punishment?" Sunbright bristled so his silver chain clittered. Angriman stepped back; orcish guards moved forward. The barbarian's voice rose. "I'm not going anywhere without Greenwillow! And I don't see why she should be punished. She's only the messenger! If you've a quarrel, take it up with the High Elves, wherever the hell they are."

Angriman's jowls quivered as he signaled frantically for the guards, but the barbarian whirled and swung his chains to keep them back. Before they could circle, he trotted into the clear-right down the middle of the hall toward the king's throne.

Now people closed in from all over: clerks, guards, courtiers. But Sunbright yelled over their protests. "Sire! King! You will release my friend Greenwillow if you are a just man! She's done you no harm-" He hissed, for guards clutched his hair and ground the ends of their hardwood batons into his kidneys, all surreptitiously. But they ceased, and the crowd parted, when the king raised his hand, beckoning the tall barbarian forward.

Up close, Sunbright got his first good look at the king. He appeared to be middle-aged, was unusually tall with handsome features, black hair and beard, and wore a gaudy crown of platinum set with red and black gems and bewinged with silver. The only jarring feature was the monarch's pale, almost sallow skin, which made him stand out amidst his courtiers, who were either sun-dark or gray-skinned.

There was no expression whatsoever on the king's face. No human warmth, no anger at Sunbright's presumption, no sympathy. With his yellow cast, black hair, and deadly calm manner, he reminded Sunbright of a giant hornet transformed into a man, an apt image, since hornets were easily roused and carried deadly stings.

Yet before the king could speak, something flickered at one side of the throne. A beautiful woman with the arching eyebrows and pointed ears of an elf rose from a wooden bench. She wore a garment of rainbow silk that shimmered like mackerel scales. Slim golden chains on thin wrists shackled her to the piece of heavy oak furniture. She smiled at him sadly, but held herself tall and proud. Sunbright blinked, rubbed his eyes with hands bound by clanking chains, and blurted, "Greenwillow?"

Then, from the opposite side, there came another shimmer. A beautiful woman with hair the color of flames, dressed in a gown of the same shade, sat close to the throne, her legs crossed saucily, her red mouth smiling slyly. Sunbright was even more boggled by this vision, but managed to keep from saying aloud the name that burst into his mind. Ruellana? Here?

The king spoke, his tone of voice as flat as his face. "You too, underling, now give offense. Such is not permitted in the lands of the One King-"

"Sire," interrupted the barbarian. The king was so surprised he sat back on his throne, hands on its intricately carved ebony arms. Sunbright was flummoxed to find the two women he cherished most here and was nervous about addressing the king in such a fashion, but he pressed on, regardless. After all, they could only behead him once. "If I might interrupt, sire. Greenwillow came only to deliver a message from her superiors. You yourself must send forth messengers throughout the lands, and you would be upset if they came to harm. Kings must communicate with lesser beings to preserve civilization."

That was almost a direct quote from the king's earlier speech. Sunbright had never spoken in public before, not even at the tribal council, but he had a good memory and could spin arguments as well as any man. "If you free her, I will see that she leaves your kingdom immediately. Or, if we have offended you, perhaps you might give us a chance to do penance. A task you need completed, perhaps, or an errand to run. We are both capable and strong."

With the innate drama of a storyteller, the barbarian crossed his arms before him as if saluting the king, then snapped them sideways. His silver shackles shattered in three places. In the crowd of silent courtiers, the plink of silver links.on flagstones sounded loudly.

"At the very least," Sunbright finished to a rapt audience, "let me suffer the same punishment as the elf-maid. Return us to our cells together." His voice almost broke as he said the last, and his knees trembled, for the fearsome memory of confinement haunted him. He prayed his quivering stomach wouldn't puke up his meager breakfast at the king's feet. Yet he failed to notice that the crowd discerned the truth: this wild man feared imprisonment over death.

The One King, as he had proclaimed himself, sat a long time on his cold throne, staring without blinking, and again Sunbright thought of a hornet and not a man. Finally the king signaled for the barbarian to move backward, and Angriman to come forward. Low tones conveyed orders, and guards led Sunbright away.

Whirling around, the barbarian glimpsed Greenwillow looking after him with a proud smile. But too, he saw Ruellana lick her lips and drop a sly wink.

Then he was hustled from the hall.

This time he was incarcerated, not in a whitewashed jail cell, but in a luxurious suite of rooms on the top floor of the castle. Couches with pillows filled the place, painted murals lined the walls, and a bed heaped high with fluffy pillows invited sleep. While guards blocked the door and removed his trailing manacles, serving girls minced in and out, covering a low table with jugs of wine and silver platters of food. Sunbright went immediately to the window to stick his head out and thumped it on some invisible shield. So this was a cell too, despite the luxury and fine view of the city of Tinnainen and the mountains beyond. The door was just as solid as the one in the dungeon.

It took all Sunbright's courage not to batter his raw fists and sore shoulders against the door and walls and window shields. But he'd tried that last night for hours, for naught. If, he argued to himself, he and Greenwillow were to get out of this place alive, he had to restrain himself, harbor his strength, and think his way clear.

So, semi-resigned, he sat on a couch, tore a wing off a chicken, buttered black bread, and ate and drank ravenously.

Until a slim pair of hands dropped over his eyes, and a familiar voice giggled, "Guess who?"

Reacting as if to an attack, the barbarian grabbed both hands and yanked. A slender female form catapulted over his head and crashed onto the table, scattering crockery and silverware and wine. The young man let go of the slender wrists in astonishment. "Ruellana?"

"Ooh," the girl groaned. Rubbing her back, which arched her breasts nicely, she wiggled off the table, then slipped cool arms around Sunbright's shoulders. "I mean, oooh, you're so strong!"

"Ruellana… how… where…?" He couldn't even frame a coherent question. "How in the name of Mystryl did you get-"

"Hush, love." She planted red lips on his, chewed at his mouth hungrily.

No, Sunbright thought, this wasn't real. It was trouble. Whatever Ruellana was, she wasn't a simple farm girl who'd gotten lost in the forest a hundred leagues from here. To travel that distance and be here in Tinnainen, she would have to either have magic or be a magical creature. She was a mage, or succubus, or witch, or nymph-not to mention the One King's consort in the One King's castle.

With a groan, he pushed her away. "Wait! Ruellana, how did you get here? Tell me, before I go mad!"

"Oh, but I'm mad too," she breathed warmly into his face. Her green eyes shimmered before him like spinning jade orbs of enchantment. "Mad for you! I've worried so, Sunbright! I'm so glad you came to rescue me!" Her tongue tickled his lips. Still he spluttered, but she only smiled. "You don't like kisses there? How about…"