The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) (13 page)

Then the robed man started
with sudden awareness and whirled.  As he did so, he drew a slim sword. His eyes fixed on Talaos.

"Stop! Do not
interfere with what you do not understand!" The man called out in a clear voice that sounded sincere, almost imploring, though he raised his sword before him.

"Oh
, I understand," snarled Talaos, his own voice cold, as he raced toward the hillock.

The other man
whispered something in cycled repetition, touched a ring on his finger, and a bit of green mist, barely visible, snaked from it and licked along the blade of his sword. Though he did not smile, his eyes showed serene resolve. He called out again in his calm voice.

"I was a man of war before I found peace, and will not let you
stop the saving of a soul."

Sprinting at full speed, Talaos drew his swords.

Talaos raced up the hillock, through the trees, and hurled himself at the other with blades flashing in the moonlight. He whirled, spun and struck again and again. The robed man dodged and deflected the strikes, the serene expression never leaving his face. Then he stepped to the side and, in a swift snakelike lunge, brought his slim sword to within an inch of Talaos's chest. Faint green mist flowed like poison along the blade.

Leaping backward, Talaos brought up his short blade and pushed the other sword aside. Then he
darted his long blade forward and ran the man through at the throat. Even then, the other looked at peace. As Talaos pulled out his blade, the man stumbled backwards, then tumbled a few steps sideways and toppled across a fallen stone. His blood flowed and pooled in the runes.

A
nother muffled cry, in Miriana's soft voice, came plaintively from the bundle. Talaos darted there and found her tied tightly within a big harnessed bag such as traders used. He pulled her out and cut the cut the bounds from her body, the blindfold from her eyes, and the gag from her mouth. Thinking how fragile she might be, he kept her eyes away from the body on the fallen stone. She collapsed in his arms, shaking with nerves, and  he held her close, eyes watchful around him for any further trouble.

Then, after some time had passed,
and she'd calmed a bit, he spoke softly to her.

"Miriana, we need to go and get help."

"NO!" she cried, with a wild look in her eyes.

He looked
at her, fixing her in his gaze until she calmed again, then continued. "We need to go get your father, and start explaining what happened."

"No..." she pleaded, "I won't be safe, if they come, not with anyone but you..."

"Who will come? Other men?"

"
Not men! It will go out like a call... some are dangerous..."

"What do you mean?"

"You!
You
of all folk spilled blood here, the blood of one of the Prophet's priests..."

"Yes..."

"On the runes!" she blurted, her face growing even wilder with fear.

She hadn't actually seen that, not with her eyes.
Her fears matched his own growing sense that they were not alone in this place. He lifted her to her feet, and helped her collect herself as they started walking.

"All right now, let's go see your father. I'll stay with you."

"No, if they try, it will be tonight. Tonight... only with you! Only with you! Others could be deceived, taken, tricked to do things... but they won't try with you..."

"
Why?"

"They fear you."

He was past arguing, and the night had grown black and cold under the pale moon.

~

They went quietly up the back stairs of the inn. Talaos tried a little key-like device in the lock, clicked it against his hidden pin, opened the door, then slipped both items back in a hidden pouch in his belt. He moved smoothly and quickly to the door of his own room, holding Miriana close, unlocked it, and brought her in.

He lit the big, well-made lamp in the corner,
stoked the small fireplace to life, and poured a basin of water. They washed in silence. When it was done, she shivered and threw herself against him, arms tight around his waist and head on his chest.  She still wore her green dress, and the clasp had come loose again. It hung off her shoulder, leaving a rounded breast half-bare. He tried to ignore that, and put a hand on her head protectively, fingers in her wild hair.

"Talaos... the storm Talaos," she whispered, "the storm, and the storm's own son."

He'd never told her that nickname. He put his other hand on her chin, and tilted her head back. She smiled. There was her fair young face, and there were her strange, distant, beautiful eyes. He looked into them for a long while, then said, with decisive finality.

"You are a prophetess."

"I'm only... a girl who sees things."

"A woman, and a prophetess."

"Not yet. I'm still afraid."

"What do you fear?"

"Everything, and you most of all," she whispered.

The
dreamlike look returned to her fair face.

S
he spoke softly, absently. "Didn't you ever wonder, with all those women, why you never sired... why they never bore..."

He
watched her, considering what to say.  She went on, eyes as if in another world.

"
Only when you wish, when you truly know... She, maybe they, the ones who will... give the next. Unless you are the last. Could you? The strongest in ages..."

"Miriana..."

"I wish it was me..."

"Stop," he said, putting a hand to her cheek.

Her eyes returned to the world, and she looked at him with sudden awareness.

She stared into his eyes
expectantly. He could feel her nervousness.

She drew even closer,
breasts pressed to his chest, breath quiet in the still air of the room.

Her hands shook, and h
er lips parted.

Talaos felt the thrill of
his own awareness run through him, of her body pressed against his. Against every one of his own instincts, he fought it. However, he did not let her go. She started to speak again, and he put a finger to her lips. She kissed it, took it into her mouth.

The storm rose in him, free of a
ll bounds. He lifted her to him, and she felt light in his arms. He kissed her parted lips. She returned it and held him tight. He kissed her ear and neck.

She
gasped out, almost pleading, "Yes...."

He carried her to the bed, and slipped the
dress off her body. She had no garments underneath. She lay there, looking up at him, half afraid and almost shaking with expectation. Her bare skin was fair, flawless, and her high breasts heaved with her nervous breaths.

Then he took her.  Sliding his own clothes off, he ran his hands over her body, from her
smooth thighs to her trim little waist to the soft meeting of her neck and shoulder. She thrilled to the touch, gasping. He covered her body with kisses, and she moaned. She ran her hands over his body inquisitively, first tentative, then with passion. He put teeth to her neck and strong hands to her nipples. She cried out and wrapped her legs around him. He pushed himself inside her, and felt her virginity. She winced with the pain, then relaxed and took him deep.

He thrust wildly inside her, again and again, holding her small
body to the bed as her masses of hair spread all around them. She moaned and writhed, kissed his moving chest, and held him by his thrusting hips. At last, he unleashed inside her, and she screamed in sudden release. She melted in his arms, panting, and almost fainted.

With half closed eyes, she whispered, "Now I am
."

He pulled her close to him, feeling protective once more, and drew the blankets over their bodies. S
he rested her head on his chest quietly, and time passed.

"
I will never have another," she said suddenly.

G
uessing her meaning, he spoke. "You have a long life ahead of you."

Miriana's
eyes closed, and she curled around him.

"Only if you succeed," she murmured, voice fading.

He smiled, and ran his fingers through her hair as she drifted off to sleep, pondering her words, all the strange words of the day, until he could stay awake no longer.

~

The morning light was shadowed, and wind from the east slipped through the shuttered windows. Talaos held Miriana close as she drowsed. There was a peal of distant thunder, far away. Instantly, he felt it, felt alert and thrillingly alive.  After a moment, he also felt something else, a hint of danger perhaps, though he couldn't place why.  Miriana stirred awake beside him. He kissed her, and she back.  He looked into her eyes, and saw something new in them. She still had the dreaming, distant depths, but she looked far more focused, lucid, and intent.

"Miriana," he said with a playful smile
. "Are you still afraid?"

"No. I wanted, I
acted, I risked, I accepted, I felt life at last, over all of my fears... and with you... the beautiful terror of you..." she said, face glowing triumphantly.

"And now, you are."

"I am a woman, and a prophetess," she said, her voice strong and flush with emotion.

She suddenly
stopped, and her eyes hinted at fear, but they narrowed instead of widening. "Armed men are coming. My father leads them."

Talaos threw on his clothes and weapons. He looked out
a window. Down in the square at the front of the inn, a lean but strong-looking man in the red cloak of a magistrate was leading a dozen others. He had shoulder length white hair and battered, but richly decorated armor and greaves under his cloak. In his right hand he carried his staff of office, and twin swords were strapped to his belt. Talaos turned to kiss Miriana one last time.  Then without hesitation, he shouldered his pack and strode downstairs to face them, through the inn and out the front. 

As he swept
out the doors, he could see deep clouds gathering over the eastern mountains. The wind was rising. Before him, the armed men fanned out on either side of their Magistrate. A crowd was gathering. The old man watched Talaos with piercing, intelligent eyes. For a moment, they stood facing each other, then the Magistrate spoke.

"Hold there
! You are not yet under charges, but do not try to flee and do not draw your weapons. Tell me about the dead man at the standing stones, and where my daughter might be." 

"I slew that man as he fought me with sword in hand.  When I arrived, he had tied your daughter in a sack, with plans to take her east across the mountains
and give her to others who would take her life. She is now in my room upstairs in this inn."

"Your story of the man matches
, in the main, what was found there, though there will be more questions before a decision is made on charges or trial." The Magistrate's face, hitherto cool and professional, now took on a pained expression. He looked Talaos in the eye, as if trying to bore into his soul. "If you rescued her, my thanks. But... my daughter is an innocent, a girl, hardly able to face the world, and she has signs of gifts she can't control... You kept her with you. Did you..."

"She is a woman,
and she has the gift of prophecy," replied Talaos in a level voice.

The wind howled.
To the east, the clouds rose in great black masses over the mountains. Distant thunder rolled in booming waves. Lightning cracked among the high stony peaks.

Miriana herself now walked out the doors of the inn. Eyes turned to her
. Her father looked at her with a hint of surprise underneath his anger, for she walked with measured, purposeful steps. Her eyes were simultaneously otherworldly and piercingly focused. Her long hair tossed behind her like flames in the wind. She strode between Talaos and her father, facing the latter, and spoke. Her voice still lilted, but it had grown deeper.

"This man made me a woman, and though I would die before
letting you harm him... It is you, all of you, who should fear for your lives if you try."

T
he armed men hesitated, but her father was unafraid. He threw his staff to the ground and drew his twin long swords. Their scrollwork of wreaths and eagles shone gold in the gathering gloom. His white hair and red cloak blew in the wind.

"You
monster!" He roared. "How dare you take advantage of her! Face me now, if you have any honor at all!"

Talaos felt the power rise in him, and the purpose. He had business in the east
, beyond the storm that called to him, and they would not stop him. He took a step, on his way.

The Magistrate advanced with
raised swords, and moved to pass his daughter.

"
STOP!" boomed Talaos, loud as thunder, and as deep. He raised his hand in warning.