Van Laven Chronicles (13 page)

CHAPTER 23

Moving briskly, they covered two more kilometers, navigating through the darkness. They came to a rest at the top of a waterfall. Carefully, they climbed out to the edge and peered down over the steep cliff. For the first time since being marooned, they saw the silvery outline of the coast stretching out before them.

Comron quickly spotted the fiery light at the far end of the beach.

“The Bastionli camp.”

Vaush nodded, though her excitement was dampened by the knowledge that they must soon part ways.

“It’s less than a kilometer away,” he observed. He continued to scan the beach in search of another camp. “There!” He pointed north of the Bastionli camp. “Another one, it must be Van Laven.”

“And no battle raging?” she said, trying to conceal her disappointment over his elation. “Maybe there’s hope for us after all.”

He scoffed. “Don’t be fooled. They’re temporarily distracted by the rescue mission. Once they’ve found us, I doubt they’ll play so nicely.” He scanned the cliff side. “Come on, I’ll guide you down.”

Vaush followed, listening carefully to Comron’s instructions as they descended. When they finally reached the bottom, Vaush was mentally and physically exhausted. She nearly collapsed, doubling over with hands on knees. “Give me a minute.”

He rubbed her back. “Take slow deep breaths…that’s it.”

“All right,” she finally said, standing erect. “Let’s finish this.”

“Vaush.” Comron inclined his head to the side. “It is finished, our journey together ends here.”

Her voice caught in her throat, from somewhere deep inside came the sound of wailing in her ears. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“It’s likely that Larrs will have scouts about patrolling this area in search of you,” Comron explained. “You understand that we can’t be found together.”

“Naturally,” was all she could manage as she fought to match his composure.

“They’ll likely find you before you reach the shore, but I want you to continue along this stream through the clearing, then follow the shoreline to your father’s camp. I won’t leave Patheis until I have confirmation that you’re safe in the Bastionli camp.”

She managed a tremulous smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will.” He glanced out toward the shore. “Well…”

“W-we should say our farewells now.” Squaring her shoulders, she extended her hand. “Thank you, Comron, for everything you did for me back there. I never would have survived it without you.”

He stared at her hand as if she held a snake in it.

“What is this?” he asked irritably.

She dropped her hand to her side. “I was…I don’t know.”

He closed the distance between them. “Is this how we are to part?”

She looked away, wishing she could make her escape before the tears started to fall.

“What’s wrong?” He tilted her chin up to look at him. “Can’t I hold you one last time before you go?”

“Yes,” she said, throwing herself into his arms and burying her face in his chest. She wanted to savor the feel of him, burn him into her memory in all his rugged, glorious perfection.

He squeezed her tighter, resting his head upon hers. “My sweet, sweet angel. What am I to do without you constantly by my side?”

“Comron, I’m so afraid.”

“Everything is going to be fine,” he said softly. “Soon you’ll be home safe in a warm bed.”

She looked at him. “No, I’m afraid we’ll never see each other again.”

The hurt and anger in his eyes made her want to weep.

“I don’t want to hear that,” he said sternly. “Of course we will.”

But she persisted. “Once you return to your home to confront your father and your duty, will you still feel so strongly about us? What if they refuse to release you from the betrothal?”

Comron’s brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. “The betrothal will be broken and I will send for you. If you do not come to me, I will go to you. Even if that means going all the way to Ti-Laros to demand what is mine.”

The notion of Comron on Ti-Laros frightened and exhilarated her beyond measure. Would he really be driven to something so insane just to be with her?

“Know this for a certainty.” There was a hint of menace in his voice, “Nothing will keep me from what is mine. Not Larrs, not Crausin,” he pulled her roughly to him, holding her immobile as he laid a devouring, all-consuming kiss on her. He breathed in her ear, “Not even you.”

Dazed and speechless, she could only watch as Comron walked away into the night.

****

“I knew you’d find me…eventually,” Comron said and laughed as Crausin nearly squeezed the life out of him with a hearty embrace.

“I set out the moment I received your message.” Crausin drew back and smiled broadly at Comron’s five day beard, unruly hair, and ragged clothing. “God’s teeth, you look like hell.”

“And you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Not a wink since I got your call. I never should have sent you on this bloody trip.”

“No, to the contrary, it worked to our advantage.” He glanced around at the escort guard then nodded for Crausin to walk with him.

“What is it?”

“I found out that General Lugen Undersoll is most likely the mole. He arranged for the explosives on the transport and sent an assassin after me.”

“An assassin.” Crausin’s eyes flew wide. “Then it wasn’t industrial espionage. How do you know this?”

“The assassin confessed it all. Well, at least that house Undersoll had contracted his services to kill me if the crash didn’t.”

“Fucking hell, Com, he came so close!”

“I’m fine, Crausin, and now we finally have some answers.”

Crausin scowled. “I’ll have that bastard’s balls raked across the coals before I have his head on a pike.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “But you’re right, now we know how they gained access to the nav-systems. He’s coordinating his attacks with the rebels as cover. Damn it, we still need to understand how deeply this goes so that when we cut him down, we eliminate everyone associated with him.”

“So we let him run free for now?”

“We’ll put a tight security detail on him and monitor all of his communications.” He glanced back at the forest, “What happened to the assassin?”

“After the interrogation I…administered justice.”

“Comron, he was far more valuable alive.”

They both looked up as Ti-Larosian transport ships roared overhead, illuminating the night sky.

Comron glanced at Crausin. “I’m guessing they found the girl.” The scouts had already mentioned that the Ti-Larosian were present searching for Larrs’ daughter.

“Yes, in addition to some Ti-Larosian guard found barely breathing.”

Crausin took Comron’s arm, his green eyes grew dark. “I understand the Bastionli snatch had some part in saving your life.”

Comron bristled at the reference. “I was dying and even though she knew I was the Prince of Nethic, she saved my life. In return I was obliged to help her reach the shore.”

Crausin nodded. “The circumstances were extreme. You did what had to be done to survive. But just tell me one thing,” he said, eyeing Comron. “You still hate all Bastionlis don’t you?”

“Does Van Laven blood still run through my veins?” he replied without hesitation.

The questioning look in Crausin’s eyes sent a wave of alarm through Comron. He could feel the subtle mental probing, the hidden doors opening and closing.

But then Crausin smiled broadly. “Gods, let’s get you cleaned up. We’ve less than six hours to make the banking conference.”

CHAPTER 24

In the low lights of the night watch, Prince Comron Van Laven crossed the meadow below the south wing of Northridge Castle. His legs carried him as if they had a mind of their own and his head reeled from the whirlwind of financial dealings and heavy negotiations orchestrated to offset the impending loss of the Eskridge deposits. Every detail had been carefully coordinated and every piece had been put into place. All that he awaited was Crausin’s consent to release him from the betrothal contract.

He groaned aloud and balled his fists at the prospect. He knew no matter how meticulously he planned the alternative, Crausin would not easily surrender the Eskridge deal. It was his brainchild carefully crafted over the years. Lady Spira had been duly compromised and was Crausin’s willing tool designed to keep Comron in check. And now Spira – the unabashed tart – sought an audience with him tomorrow morning, no doubt to insist that their lewd bedroom antics resume. The notion of it sickened him and the thought of Vaush learning of it petrified him.

In all his frustration and angst, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find himself standing before the military combat training facility. It was the perfect place to vent his anger and emerge from his dark moods. He entered the building and ran his hand past the sensor; the lights popped on and flooded the gymnasium. Comron’s fingers danced across the control panel to call up the fighting drones lining the walls. He set them at the highest attack mode for maximum aggression and walked over to the weapons cache and selected a heavy flanged mace.

The silver, mechanical humanoids came to life. Each one lifted its head with eyes glowing orange. In unison they stepped down from their holding mounts. Orange eyes shimmered at Comron as the droids mustered into a circle around him.

Comron raised the mace, struck a fighting stance and growled, “Attack!”

As they charged in, he leapt into the air and drove the weapon down, smashing the arm off the nearest drone. He spun and hit the next one in the gut, doubling it over before he bludgeoned its head. A drone struck him in the back, knocking him to the ground, but Comron rolled forward with the momentum and swept his leg out to knock the drone off its feet. The second it hit the ground, he drove the flanged end of the mace through the drone’s chest, impaling it. Springing to his feet, Comron swung the mace up and connected with the closest drone’s head, knocking it off its shoulders. A metal foot caught him in the mid-section, he groaned as he stumbled back, but then ducked as a drone swung a battle axe at his head. His foot shot out and hit the drone in the chest. Instantly, another one flew at him and bashed Comron’s face with the butt of its club. The pain only fueled his rage as he moved more rapidly to strike crippling blows and take them in turn. He battled through, working out his aggression and frustration, until there were no more combatants left standing. His chest heaved and perspiration trickled down his face as he stood in the midst of the shattered combat drones.

Let this war begin.

.

On his way to the drawing room, Comron spotted his mother at the bottom of the staircase.

“Ah, there you are, my darling,” Queen Sheally said cheerfully as Comron descended. “You know that it is not polite to keep your fiancée waiting, even if you look as dashingly handsome as you do,” she said examining his attire. He wore a white linen dress shirt with a cravat at the neck underneath a hip-length, well-tailored burgundy doublet with gold buttons down the center. Fitted black breeches and a pair of finely-polished knee-high boots accented the cut of his thigh and length of his legs. A three-quarter length black jerkin served as a sleeveless coat over his attire.

He tried not to resent his mother for being swept up in all the pageantry that Spira had created around their upcoming nuptials. Sheally had no idea what sort of depraved creature Spira was, Comron thought. But how could his mother see it when she’d grown so adept at turning a blind eye to all of Crausin’s indiscretions?

She touched his cheek affectionately. “What is it my darling, what has you troubled?”

He silently berated himself for letting his emotions show so readily.

“I’m fine, mother.” Before she could say another word, he kissed her cheek. “Now, I believe my fiancée is waiting for me.”

“Oh, yes. Come along, my dear.” She took his arm and led him down the hall and through the double doors of the great room. The place was an informal entertaining hall with high ceilings, polished wood floors, and an enormous fireplace.

In the center of the room, a couple meters from the fireplace, was an antique divan flanked by two matching arm chairs. Sitting ever so gracefully upon the divan, with her back to the doors, was Lady Spira Eskridge. Upon hearing the doors open, she turned to peer over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds as they caught sight of Comron.

“Hello, sweet darling,” she said, as she gracefully rose from the divan like a great swan about to take flight.

To any other man, she was a vision from their fondest adolescent dreams. The neckline of her form-fitting gown was tastefully cut, revealing an ample bosom and the bodice tapered around her slender waist. A full mane of flaxen hair fell abundantly over her bare shoulders, framing a beautiful face graced with delicate features.

Comron was unmoved.

“Hello, Spira.” He approached her in the most detached, formal manner. For his mother’s benefit, he lifted Spira’s hand, kissed it and let it go. He glanced up to see his mother smile and close the doors.

Spira gave him a playful pout that would have broken the will of the most puritanical of men. “Is that the best you can do when you haven’t seen me in nearly two weeks?”

“No, but I am afraid it’ll have to do,” he replied unapologetically. “What do you want, Spira?”

She tossed her head causing her flaxen locks to bounce. “I wanted to check on the health of my betrothed. What is so suspect about that?”

“I have already informed you that I’m well.”

“Then you and your father will take dinner with me this evening?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s only mid-morning,” she said, hiding her impatience behind a practiced smile. “I’m certain that you will have worked up an appetite by the dinner hour.”

“I’m equally certain that I won’t,” he said, folding his arms resolutely across his chest. “My father should be suitable enough dining company for you.”

She looked away, but not before he glimpsed the pained look in her eyes. Most curious, he thought.

“It’s been almost two weeks, Comron. It isn’t like you at all to be such a stoic in the face of certain depravations,” she stepped closer, in complete seductress mode. “Crausin assures me that you haven’t gone elsewhere to sate your desire since your return, therefore, you should be positively randy by now.”

I am, but not for you
, he wanted to tell her. But instead he replied, “Don’t humiliate yourself any further, I’ve already told you that I’ll not be joining you for
dinner
this evening.”

Her shoulders set rigidly as she glared at him. “Your father won’t be pleased at all when I inform him of how reprehensibly you’ve treated me. I’m to be your wife!”

Her words choked at him like a noose around the neck. Needing to be away from her, he headed to the bar and prepared himself a strong drink.

“I will have a glass of markana,” she said, pulling up alongside him.

“You know where the bottles are,” he said stiffly.

She huffed, but took the invitation to pour herself a glass, hoping that joining him for a drink might prove more effective in thawing her reluctant fiancée.

“So, Patheis,” she said, a smile in her tone as she sipped her markana. “It must’ve been a dreadful ordeal. No doubt it explains your lingering dark mood. You know that I’m an excellent listener and comforter…why don’t you tell me about it.”

It took all his self-control not to throw her out of the room for her vulgar duplicity. She only cared about alleviating his misery to the extent that it would draw him, and Crausin, back into her bed.

“I’d sooner set your headboard banging against the wall all night before I’d deign to discuss Patheis with
you
,” he said, the disdain dripping in his voice. “And I assure you, neither of those things is going to happen.”

Her azure eyes fixed upon him with a penetrating gaze. “My patience with your impertinence is wearing dangerously thin. A word to Crausin, and I could make life rather difficult for you. So let’s start again, shall we?” She took a deep breath, an arrogant smile touched her lips. “We’ll be expected at the studio tomorrow for the refinishing of the bride and groom hologram stills, and then we’ll—”

“We did those weeks ago,” he said tersely.

Her lips pulled taut across her teeth. “Well, we’re doing them again because you were in a cross mood
and it showed
. I’ll not have our wedding guests leaving with visuals of my groom looking anything less than euphoric.”

“The hell I will. Just edit a damn smile on my face, that way it’ll be just as fake as the one I would’ve given you.”

“Need I remind you that your attendance at these functions has been stipulated by the betrothal contract? Your failure to show will result in steep fines and penalties. So you might want to rethink your position…you contemptuous ass.”

He rose from the bar and glared down at her. “I don’t care if it cost me a Duke’s ransom. I won’t be at the studio nor will I be present for any of the other stupid shite you have planned.”

“Crausin will force you, even if he has to drag you there kicking and screaming!”

“He’ll have to kill me first.” He laughed at her. “But then you’d simply prop up my lifeless corpse and go through with the wedding anyway just to save face. Anything to keep them from realizing that you’re nothing but a high-born, well-primped whore that I’m
being
forced to marry
!”

She leaned in close and grinned in his face. “Crausin satisfies me in ways you never will and you can’t stand it.”

He sniffed her and recoiled. “Crausin’s right, you do smell like cod fish.”

She gasped. “He never said…you…vile, disgusting liar!” She flew at him with clawed hands, but he caught her arms before she could sink her nails into his face. “I’ve already warned you about this, haven’t I? The next time you attempt to strike me, I will hit back.
Hard
.” He thrust her away and turned to leave. “Go home, Spira. Nobody wants you here,” he said over his shoulder and then ducked as the glass vase flew past him and crashed against the door.

“You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with! You insufferable, arrogant, little prick!” she raged, throwing anything she could get her hands on at him. “You’ll pay for this. I’m going to make your life a living hell!” she screamed after him with such vitriol all of Northridge Castle must have learned that the picture perfect couple was anything but.