Prompt: The Queens Of Gehrlia, Part 4

…Continued from Part 3

“My fierce battle companion,” Behnrel began. Isrehna and her handmaidens leaned forward intently. They all knew his code phrases for stories of Diehlen. “My fierce battle companion wielded her bow and arrow equally well in the hunt. Once we came to a village that was being terrorized by a rampaging wild boar. It had torn up most of their summer crops and attacked their mezzen in their pens.”

He eyed the girls, but they showed no fear, only fascination, hungry for tales of adventure beyond the stifling confines of their quarters, clothes, and lessons. He hid a smile and looked sternly from one to the other. “In the days before we arrived, three of their best hunters had gone after the boar, but it surprised them deep in the forest, goring one through the leg and another through the chest before the third injured it with a blow to its hindquarters and it ran away.”

“Were they,” Isrehna asked with wide eyes, “were they—”

“Isrehna!”

Behnrel jumped from the floor to stand at attention, chagrined he had not even heard the queen’s approach. The handmaidens knelt and bowed, but Isrehna held her head up high, looking straight at the queen. “Grammere,” she said calmly. Behnrel dared not smile at her bravery, but he knew there would be a price to pay for her insubordination.

“Isrehna,” the queen said in icy tones, “it’s time for your bath.” She pointed to the door, deliberately turning her hands so Behnrel would see her own tattoos. Proving, he thought bitterly, that queens are born, not made, no matter how they are marked.

Isrehna stood without a word, and her handmaidens meekly followed her out of the room. Behnrel kept his face carefully neutral as long as the queen regarded him and even after she had spun on her heel and followed the girls through the door. He closed his eyes and pictured Diehlen’s hands…

TBC

Dogs in House	Brindle, Houdini
Time writing	~45 minutes
March word count	7,789

Prompt: The Queens Of Gehrlia, Part 3

…Continued from Part 2

Behnrel swung Isrehna by her ankles, upside down like a clock’s pendulum. Her straight white hair trailed the ground, and she laughed even as her face turned red. “More,” she cried. 

Behnrel grunted and lowered her down with a twist so that she ducked her head and curled into a tumble, jumping to her feet to face him. He taught her as many fighting moves as he could without tipping his hand.

“Tell us a story,” Isrehna demanded. With her hands balled on her hips, he saw the same tattoos he could trace blindfolded on her mother’s wrists. Behnrel blinked away the memories of Diehlen and bowed a courtier’s bow, but on the wrong leg, a long-standing joke with Isrehna. She tossed her hair and skipped over to the pillows and furs and handmaidens piled in front of the deep fireplace. Behnrel followed and sat cross-legged at their side.

Few other than Behnrel still remembered the hidden stone in the back corner of the fireplace, and the passage that led down deep beneath the keep and far outside its walls.  He’d only used it one, the night Diehlen had brought him and Isrehna into the keep. The night she left to begin her sworn service to Sweet Madra. When she’d begged the goddess to spare her daughter’s life, she had neglected to ask that Isrehna would live with her. It did not do to question the will of a goddess, so Behnrel hid his feelings and swore instead to protect Isrehna in Diehlen’s stead.

Diehlen’s father, the former king of Gehrlia, had welcomed his granddaughter and her guard. His young wife, not so much. She must have a special sixth sense, for whenever Diehlen’s name was mentioned, she appeared as if by magic to divert Isrehna’s attention and direct Behnrel to some particularly menial and odious task. He dared not refuse or offend her, for she would not hesitate to banish him for the slightest offense. And so they played at stalemate, excruciatingly formal and polite on the surface, while neither was blind to the other’s loathing.

Continued in Part 4…

Dogs in House	Brindle, Houdini
Time writing	~45 minutes
March word count	7,789

Prompt: Artist, Liar, Missing Child, The Quest Continues, Part 2

…Continued from part 1

The point skittered down her chainmail, and she grabbed behind the wrapped joint, shoving the pole back and forcing him off-balance. Bahnrel swept his staff low and struck the guard at the knees. Diehlen’s thrust pushed him onto the ground. Without a word, they ran from the courtyard, dodging through alleys and across stalls until they were sure there was no pursuit.

Stopping in the shade of a quiet alley, Diehlen leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Bahnrel shouldered close and pushed his palm against her shoulder, pinning her against the white-washed clay bricks. “You lied!” he growled.

She grabbed his arm and pushed back, swinging away and standing with her hands balled into fists on her hips. “Never! I have never lied to you.”

“You said you searched for you own child. Not the Fenzar’s.”

She dropped her gaze for a scant second, then lifted her chin. “The Fenzar is her father.”

Behnrel stepped back. “But…the Fenzar brought home his infant by the queen of Gehrlia…”

She said nothing. Stood unflinching. Behnrel reached forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling back the chainmail he had never seen her remove. There was no mistaking the royal tattoos that covered her forearms and continued under the sleeve. He snatched his hand away as if burned, eyes wide as he started to bend his knee.

Diehlen reached forward and grabbed his elbow, lifting him up. “I am no queen no more. I am only what I have told you. When I recover my child, she will return to Gehrlia, and I will go to serve Sweet Madra.”

Behnrel stared again. “You will not return? Not keep her with you?”

Diehlen shook her head once as they headed toward their stabled horses. “Sweet Madra accepted my penitence in return for my daughter’s life. I did not ask that she live it with me.”

Behnrel turned this over as they withdrew the horse and rode out of town. “Sweet Madra is a powerful goddess, and a fair one, but not always easy to understand. I will continue to ride with you, and if you wish, I will return to Gehrlia with your child.”

Diehlen said nothing. They rode in silence for awhile. Behnrel watched from the corner of his eye. Finally, she nodded again, and thus his fate was tied to the queens of Gehrlia.

Continued in Part 3...

Dogs in house	Houdini, Brindle
Time writing	30 minutes
January word count	13,407

Prompt: Artist, Liar, Missing Child, The Quest Continues, Part 1

Bahnrel stood in the shade of a courtyard parasol and watched Diehlen move from stall to stall. She couldn’t help attracting attention, a tall, blond woman in rainbow-hued chainmail under a penitent’s robe. Her calm demeanor hid a fiery temper and fierce warrior, he knew from their travels together over the past few months.

They had met in a crossroad tavern, where a few louts exercised very poor judgment with regard to Diehlen. Bahnrel had been reaching for his staff to assist, then simply leaned on it as he watched her plow throw the crowd with brutal efficiency. When the seven men lay knocked out or moaning at her feet, he had bowed and offered to buy her a round…at the next tavern.

They had traveled together since that night, though in truth Bahnrel knew little more about her than she had told him that first night. She searched for her child, stolen from her by the pip’s father. She had vowed service to Sweet Madra in return for the goddess’ aide, which is why she wore the penitent’s robe. She had proven again and again why she wore the chainmail. Trouble seemed drawn to her like moths to the flame.

Speaking of trouble, Bahnrel started forward. Diehlen had been talking to a potter, and the man began pointing at her and shouting. Four bazaar guards moved in behind her, and Diehlen had grabbed the potter’s arm in a blocking lock Bahnrel recognized from their regular sparring. He struggled to understand the potter’s dialect. “She’s dangerous! She seeks the Fenzar’s child!”

“No,” cried Diehlen. “She is my child, borne of my body. Your Fenzar took her from me by force.”

Bahnrel didn’t hesitate, striking the guard closest to him on the back of the head, and swinging his staff around to knock the next to the ground. Diehlen pulled hard on the potter’s arm, and he cried out, dropping to his knees and cradling his broken elbow. She kicked one of the remaining guards square in the chest, but the fourth stabbed at her with his long-handled pike.

Continued in part 2…

Dogs in house	Houdini, Brindle
Time writing	30 minutes
January word count	13,407

Prompt: Just let me finish this chapter…

Thanks to Ekaterina Ermolaeva for permission to use her wonderful image, “Black Lizard”!

Drknst sat in the open window, reading his favorite book of Horstian love poems. He didn’t understand them, of course, but he sounded out the characters as if they were Gafowan, and once in awhile there was even a recognizable word in there. He sometimes dreamed of the Horstian female who had given him the small, red-skinned book, many sun turns ago. The things she could do with her ventral antennae…

Drknst slowly clicked his hindclaws against the stone sill, keeping time with the poetry he spoke under his breath. His black chitinous plates warmed in the sun, and his eye glowed red with sleepy pleasure. His spring horns and shoulder spurs had finally stopped itching, and he felt relaxed for the first time since the Thaw. His mane fell down his back to the top of his tail, which swept back and forth along the stone wall beneath the window. He felt a rush of pleasure from the scratch of chitin on stone and thought it was probably time to find a mate for the summer.

“Drknst!” called one of the yound warriors. “Come spar with us!” Drknst heard the raucous laughter as the others egged on his challenger. He rolled his eyes and pretended not to hear.

The others took up the cry. “Drknst! Drknst!”

He sighed heavily and eyed his newly sharpened kalak blade resting against the wall. Their chest plates were hardly strong enough to withstand a blunted blade, much less a warrior’s killing kalak. But the Thaw spurred their battle urges, and any warrior in residence was fair game. Especially a quiet, reading warrior. They thought him weak, despite what he taught them on the training fields. Despite the stories the other warriors told. It did not do for one to boast of one’s own prowess in battle.

“Drknst!” cried his challenger. “Are you coming down? Or must I come and carry your kalak for you, old one?” More laughter. Drknst snorted.

“Let me just finish this chapter,” he called down. Sounding out the Horstian poem, he paid no attention to the young chuk’s reply.

Dogs in house	Houdini
Time writing:	15 minutes, interrupted
November word count:	26,440