Author: Kirk Straughen
Synopsis: Raymond Myles is forced to become a player in interstellar affairs for the sake of the greater good. He must voyage to the distant world of Menvar and here, cut off from all he is familiar with, marry an alien woman he has never met. Can he survive this hostile planet and the machinations of ruthless adversaries? Is his fate to be a lonely and loveless existence surrounded by brutal enemies?
Prime Minister Celia Blackthorn looked up from the report she had completed reading and gazed at Nicholas Pembrook, head of the Ministry of Interstellar Affairs, with a look of incredulity and anger stamped large upon her refined features.
“The conditions imposed by King Thaxas of Menvar are outrageous,” she all but exploded. “Even if the Queen's youngest son were old enough, we couldn't ask Prince John to marry an alien and spend the rest of his life on Caschan, a savage and primitive world hundreds of light-years from Earth. The deposits of zelenite crystals the geologists on our our survey ship discovered within King Thaxas’ domain are vital, true, but his demands are impossible. Surely, you can negotiate a more reasonable agreement?"
“We’ve tried, Prime Minister,” Pembrook replied in his usual imperturbable manner. “But King Thaxas is adamant. As part of the mining rights agreement, he expects more than just technical assistance. In addition, he wants to unite his kingdom and our nation through the marriage of his daughter, Princess Seruna, to a member of the British Royal Family. This request is not unprecedented - Earth’s history is replete with similar arrangements.”
“Do I need to remind you,” replied Blackthorn, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, “that this is the year 2126, not 1526. We’re a democracy, not a monarchy. And besides, these conditions are impossible to meet for the reasons I’ve already given.”
“Perhaps not,” replied Pembrook, a shrewd expression on his vulpine face. “A commoner, provided he is no older than 18, could be adopted by the Queen. Then, as one of her children, she could bestow the title of prince upon him. All of this is perfectly legal. We would not be deceiving King Thaxas, and I already have a fellow in mind. His name is Raymond Myles, a junior member of my staff.
“His younger sister is seriously ill with a rare form of cancer. There is an effective treatment, but at the moment it is only available in Switzerland. By the time it is approved for use here, it will be too late, and neither he nor his relatives can raise enough money in time to pay for the expensive therapy. I’m sure Myles would agree to undertake the mission if our government gives a legally binding guarantee to pay for all of Alice’s medical expenses, no matter what the cost, and for as long as it takes to effect a cure.”
The Prime Minister gave Pembrook a hard look. “Your proposal is tantamount to blackmail,” she replied angrily. “How can Myles possibly refuse? You’re putting the young man in an impossible situation. If he declines then his sister will die. On the other hand, if he agrees, then what kind of a life will he have - married to an alien woman he has never met, and having to live on a primitive world cut off from all he is familiar with. Your proposal is legal, but unethical. I doubt whether Her Majesty would agree to it.”
“Unethical, perhaps. But certainly necessary,” replied Pembrook. “As you know, zelenite crystals are an irreplaceable power source for hyperspace drives, and the deposits in our lunar mines will be exhausted in a few years. It will be the end of interstellar exploration for our nation. Rival countries won’t sell us their zelenite, or if they do then we’ll have to pay exorbitant prices for the extremely rare mineral. Prime Minister, I’m sure you don’t want to see us at the mercy of our competitors. Nor would our patriotic queen.”
Blackthorn leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She didn’t like Pembrook’s Machavellian plan one bit. But she grudgingly knew the man was right. Interstellar exploration had brought tremendous benefits. The UK could not afford to be at a disadvantage. The harsh reality was that sometimes individuals had to be sacrificed for the greater good. Blackthorn consoled herself by focusing on the fact they would be saving a young girl’s life.
The Prime Minister exhaled a gusty sigh and opened her eyes. “All right Pembrook,” she said heavily. “Put your plan into action. Make sure everything is classified top secret. Needless to say, we don’t want word of this leaking out, lest our rivals try to use this knowledge for their own ends.”
**********
Raymond Myles stood on the soil of Menvar, on the alien world of Caschan, watching the landing module ascend to the Stellar Venture, the orbiting starship that had brought him to the planet. The young man had mixed feelings about it all. He recalled being summoned to Pembrook’s office, the man’s offer, and his own shock upon hearing the radical proposal. Myles had no illusions about the situation. How could he refuse and let his sister die? It was impossible.
Myles's parents had been aghast when he told them of the offer and the fact that he had accepted it. Jane, his mother, and Alice, his sister, had broken down and wept. Interstellar travel wasn’t available to the public. It was reserved for scientists and the military. Neither would see him again. He had tried to console both by pointing out that he would still be alive and that his sacrifice would save Alice. John, his father, a more reserved man, shook his hand, the hint of a tear in his eye.
“I’m proud of you, my boy,” he had said. “You’ve made a tremendous sacrifice to save your sister. You could have refused. None of us would have ever known of your decision because of the secrecy involved. And yet you chose her welfare above your own.”
The rest of the month had passed in a blur of frenetic activity - his meeting with Queen Ann, a rather intimidating woman; the signing of legal documents; the studies on Menvari culture; and the tearful farewells to his family as he boarded the landing module that would take him up to the Stellar Venture. Now, after a six-month journey in suspended animation, here he was on an alien world facing a largely unknown future, about to be married to a woman he’d never met. It was unbelievable, yet there was no denying the harsh reality of his outlandish situation.
The ascending module grew smaller and vanished into the depths of the sky. Myles lowered his gaze and turned to face the delegation that awaited him in the expansive square of Kotos, the capital of the Kingdom of Menvar. Myles looked at the king’s representatives, three men in total. Their facial features were similar to the African peoples of Earth. They possessed a skin tone that was the color of aged teak. Their hair was glossy black and tightly curled. Their eyes, however, were almond-shaped and amber in color. But apart from this and some anatomical differences in their internal organs, they could have passed for humans. Caschan was an Earth-like world, and evolution had produced Earth-like beings.
Oban, the king’s chief minister, approached and pressed his right palm to his forehead in greeting. The man was clad in the standard attire of a person of his rank - a blue wrap-around kilt-like garment decorated with elaborate geometrical embroidery in white and yellow, and a fringe of crimson tassels. His torso was bare and covered with interlocking geometric designs tattooed in gold, as were his arms and legs. A beaded collar of turquoise and carnelian was the only item of jewelry that he wore, with embossed black leather sandals completing his attire.
“Welcome to Kotos, the capital of the Kingdom of Menvar, Prince Raymond of Earth,” said Oban. “May our city and its people find favor in your eyes.”
Myles returned Oban’s greeting. “You are a fine people, and your city is a wonder to behold,” he truthfully replied in the Menvari language, which he had rapidly learned through psycho-induction, the latest in advanced teaching technology.
The chief minister bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment and introduced the other men: Pashwan, the palace major-domo, and Ounis, his assistant. These introductions complete, Oban gestured toward the waiting palanquin and its accompaniment of ceremonial guards clad in their gilded breastplates, mail skirts, and conical helmets.
“Your transportation, Prince Raymond. Would you care to mount the palanquin so we may carry you to the palace where the king and your wife-to-be, Princess Seruna, eagerly await your arrival?”
Myles got onto the litter, which resembled a large Victorian chaise lounge with a fringed canopy. He leaned against the ornate backrest, and when settled, four burly carriers, using two poles at the front and rear, hoisted the conveyance onto their broad shoulders as Oban and his companions took up positions at the rear.
The young man took a deep, calming breath as they got underway. He felt awkward and out of place. He had mastered the language and understood the customs of his new world, but he did not feel that he belonged. He was a prince in name only - a poor actor playing a role he felt he was ill-suited for. But still, what choice did he have? And what would the princess be like? He didn’t even have a photo of her, let alone any insight into her personality. Everything had been so rushed. Myles looked around, taking in the exotic scene in a bid to distract himself from his worries.
The expansive square in which the module had landed, chosen for its size and level surface, was packed with a colorful crowd of local onlookers curious to catch a glimpse of the mysterious prince from Earth. The men were dressed in the same style as Oban, the chief minister. But the color of their garments was white, as befitting the rank of a commoner, with green embroidery and black beadwork. The women wore white, full-length sheath dresses supported by a single strap fastened diagonally over one shoulder. Their garments were more vibrant, decorated with a black crosshatch pattern and a rainbow palette of colorful beads sewn onto the intersecting lines. There were no restrictions on the type of jewelry commoners could wear, and both men and women wore it in abundance - precious metals and gems if they could afford them, or, if not, then polished brass and colored glass as imitations of the real thing. None were tattooed, as this practice was reserved for royalty.
The crowd was held back by a cordon of hundreds of soldiers, armed with spears and oval shields, whose twin lines formed a corridor leading to the palace complex on the square’s far side, and Myles shifted his gaze to this impressive marble building as he drew near. The huge complex, built around a square artificial lake bordered by ornamental gardens, contained many audience halls, courtyards, and smaller villas for the royal family, as well as apartments for officials. The sprawling building, which resembled a miniature city, was decorated on its ceilings and walls with scenes of wildlife and flowering plants, as well as geometric designs complete with rosettes. Ornate marble columns, carved to resemble the zirzem - a tulip-like flower, rose gracefully from mosaic floors to support the high ceilings of the structure, whose architecture was somewhat neoclassical in appearance.
Shortly, they arrived at the grand entrance of the building, and the polished doors, towering panels of richly carved dark wood inlaid with gilded brass, swung open to admit the palanquin and its esteemed passenger. But as the ornate litter was about to cross the threshold, one of the guards by the entrance broke ranks. With a wild cry, the warrior darted forward and swiftly cast his spear.
The assassin was fast, but Myles was faster. The young man, with feline speed and agility, flung himself from the palanquin. Into the litter’s backrest thudded the flashing spear. The warrior cursed. He drew his sword and lunged at the risen Earthman. But Myles was no sitting duck. The spear, quickly torn from the backrest, was already in his hands. Now armed, he fiercely engaged the foe as other guards swiftly rushed to aid him.
Myles, who had received intensive training in armed and unarmed combat, adroitly sidestepped his vicious foe’s disemboweling thrust. The Earthman lunged. The assassin screamed as sharp steel pierced him through. Blood gushed, and the would-be killer fell lifeless to the ground. The young man stepped back as the loyal guards arrived and began hacking at the body.
“I think you’ll find he is already dead,” observed Myles with studied dryness. It was a cool reply that was not at all in alignment with his carefully hidden feelings. Someone had just tried to murder him. But who and for what purpose? Had a rival Earth government discovered the plan and sought to ruin it?
His speculations were interrupted by Zerin, the commander of the guards, who rushed up beside him in an obvious state of agitation, as did Oban. “My Prince, thank the Divine Light you aren’t injured,” gasped Zeren. “This way, quickly. There may be other killers on the loose.” Then to Oban: “Inform His Majesty at once of what has happened. Take Pashwan and his assistant with you.”
Oban and his companions hurriedly left as Myles was quickly surrounded by guards and swiftly escorted into the building. The crowd had seen the commotion and had become restless. The other guards were pushing back the craning onlookers, dispersing them none too gently with swinging spears. The huge doors were swiftly shut, cutting off the scene of growing chaos.
“Welcome to Menvar,” Myles thought sourly. “I’ve been here hardly an hour, and already my life is in peril.” He felt sick. He had just killed a man, but he knew he dared not falter or show any outward signs of fear or distress. He was supposed to be a prince and had to act like one regardless of how he truly felt.
His escort conducted him along a sumptuously decorated hall towards the audience chamber. Myles, preoccupied with what had just happened, failed to notice the rich beauty of the frescoes and other marvelous artworks all around him. By the time he reached the audience chamber, he had gained more control over his roiling emotions. It wouldn’t do to meet the king with trembling knees.
They entered the audience chamber. It was a large square room with ornamental columns around the walls. At the far end was a dais. On the dais was a throne of solid gold, and on the throne an imposing figure sat. King Thaxas was a big man: tall, solidly built, with bulging muscles kept in peak condition by hard training and ornamented with intricate golden tattoos. His face reminded Myles of a falcon, fierce and indomitable. A truly intimidating man and his soon to be father-in-law. A ray of sunlight slanted through one of the room’s large circular windows, setting ablaze the crimson gemstones in the golden circlet that he wore.
“I hear you slew the assassin who tried to kill you.” The king’s voice was like the growl of an angry lion. “It is good to strike down one's enemies, to see them lying bleeding and lifeless at one’s feet. Rest assured, the matter will be thoroughly investigated.” Thaxis abruptly changed the subject as if attempted murder was an everyday occurrence not worthy of significant comment. “My daughter, present yourself,” he commanded, clapping his hands in royal summons.
To the right of the throne was a large ornamental screen of gold filigree workmanship, and from behind it stepped a young woman of striking appearance - a feminine version of her father, the king. She regarded Myles with a look of ill-concealed disdain - like a lioness might regard a frightened rabbit.
Myles bowed low, pressing his right palm to his forehead. “Hail, Princess Seruna. May the Divine Light shine upon you always.”
“Is this the so-called Prince of Earth, the creature I’m compelled to marry?” she inquired, her voice heavy with condescension as she ignored the formal greeting. “He doesn't look much like a prince, or a man for that matter. Why, I’ve seen bigger muscles on our washerwomen.” Then, gazing meaningfully at his groin: “His shortcomings no doubt extend to other areas.”
“And I’m pleased to meet you, too," thought Myles, his face a mask of studied diplomatic imperturbability, now realizing why he had been kept in the dark about her intimidating appearance and abrasive personality.
“My daughter,” replied the king, his brow creased with mild disapproval. “Do not be too hasty to judge. Prince Raymond has just survived an assassination attempt by slaying the man who tried to kill him. He may not appear as stalwart as we could hope for, but he is no weakling.”
“Maybe he just got lucky,” she waspishly retorted, not willing to concede.
The king grunted and waved his hand in dismissal. Without another word, Princess Seruna walked behind the golden screen and then through the archway that it concealed. Though gone, her derision, like a bad smell, hung heavily in the air.
Thaxis sighed. “My daughter can be difficult at times. But I’m sure you are capable of taming her. What she needs is a strong and vigorous man between her thighs and many children. Thus, our two kingdoms will be united and Seruna’s distemper alleviated. Tomorrow, we depart in the King’s Ship to Holy Thanos, where, in accordance with tradition, the blessing of the marriage will take place as a prelude to the wedding.”
The king clapped his hands again, this time summoning Oban, his chief minister. "Escort Prince Raymond to the suite prepared for him. See to his every need, and make sure the guards are vigilant.”
“Dear God,” though Myles as he was led from the presence of the king. “I expected things to be rough, but not this bad. What the hell have I gotten myself into?”
**********
A small UK embassy had been established adjacent to the palace, and Ambassador Browning came to see Myles an hour after the young man had settled into his quarters. Browning, a rather nondescript fellow, wore a worried expression like an old coat as he introduced himself.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you when you landed,” he apologized. “Menvari protocol is somewhat inflexible at times. This assassination attempt - terrible, absolutely terrible. I can’t explain it. I have a thorough understanding of the politics of the region. The rulers of the other kingdoms are on friendly terms with Thaxas. They wouldn’t ruin alliances by doing this.”
“I've been thinking along similar lines,” replied Myles. “I think we are looking in the wrong direction. Pembrook drove home the need for utmost secrecy. What if a rival Earth government has discovered what we are doing and also wants the zelenite deposits? Killing me would certainly disrupt our government’s plans.”
Both men looked at each other, their expressions becoming grim with the contemplation of this disturbing possibility.
**********
It was early morning. Myles leaned on the starboard taffrail of the King’s Ship, an ornate vessel heavily carved with sinuous arabesques. He watched the vibrant lakeside city of Kotos grow smaller with distance as the swift craft - a narrow, lateen-rigged sailing vessel called a fek - made its way up the mighty Ikthon River. The young man wasn’t in the best of moods as he reflected on recent events. He was accustomed to sleeping on a bed rather than a padded mat, and his fitful slumber had been further disturbed by nightmares of murderous assassins and shadowy governments plotting his demise.
His only consolation was that by being here, Alice, his young sister, was receiving the best medical care that Earth could offer, and he clung to this solacement like a drowning man desperately clutching at a lifesaver.
Myles, seeking further distraction from his worries, turned his attention to the scenery. The Ikthon averaged about two miles in width. Its course ran from its headwaters in the Uvor Mountains to the Oroforon Sea, a thousand miles distant. Their journey to Holy Thanos, however, would not encompass such a span. According to Captain Heknem, with favorable winds, the fek should reach its destination by mid-afternoon today.
At the moment, the ship was passing by lush Menvari farmlands - orchards of strange, gnarled trees called tuvim whose twisted boughs were heavy with spicy, cylindrical fruit, black in color. Further on were fields of koh, a type of nutty legume resembling a yellow potato but enclosed in a pod like a peanut. Windmills were also there, not to grind grain, for there were no plants that resembled Earth’s cereals, but to power pumps for the irrigation of the fields.
Time passed, and the farmlands were left behind to be replaced by a forested countryside of conical trees whose bluish leaves resembled those of aloes. Myles was engrossed in watching huge eel-like creatures with crimson scales riding in the ship’s wake when his contemplation was disturbed by Tivna, one of Seruna’s handmaidens.
“Prince Raymond, my mistress wishes to see you,” she announced. “Please follow me.”
Myles complied, wondering why he was being summoned. His bride had made it clear she didn’t favor him. The marriage was going to be a loveless political arrangement in which they would probably lead largely separate lives. He grimaced at the thought of the long and loveless years that lay ahead of him. Still, he’d known the risks and had accepted the arrangement.
Myles squared his shoulders as the handmaid opened the door of Seruna’s cabin. “Into the dragon’s lair,” he thought as he stepped across the threshold.
The door closed behind him and he was alone with Seruna. Myles stared, astonished. His amazement was not due to the opulence of the princess’s cabin, which was considerable. Rather, it was the fact that she stood before him completely nude. Her physique was brawny, not as hefty as the king’s, but very close to it, with every muscle well defined as if sculpted by a master artisan. Her body, like that of her father, was decorated in an intricate web of golden tattoos. The prominent nipples of her pert breasts were pierced with diamond barbells, as was her vulva. She looked every bit the intimidating Amazon that she was. Seruna wasn’t ugly or plain, but she wasn’t Myles’ idea of feminine beauty either.
“I wish to take your measure,” she boldly announced, hands on hips. “My husband must be my equal at the very least. Now, to test your mettle, we will engage in fierce combat. But I shall not ask you to remove your clothes, as is the custom, and thus expose your laughable inadequacies.”
“That’s most kind of you,” replied Myles.
Seruna’s eyes narrowed at his sarcasm. She lunged at him. They grappled furiously, each straining to the utmost. Myles didn’t want to hurt the girl, but his opponent was not constrained by such compunctions. The Earthman yelped when she sank her teeth into his ear as a distraction to her hip throw. Despite the pain, Myles managed to swiftly counter by dropping his elbow into her hip as she turned, thus jamming the lift. He bent his knees as he grabbed her left bicep, stepped back, and dropped her to the floor.
The princess was down but far from out. She swiftly rolled towards him, grabbed his ankle, and wrenched his leg away. Myles cursed as he fell. Seruna was on him in an instant, her hands darting to his throat to apply a brutal choke-hold. He grabbed her arms as she straddled him. Myles pulled one arm down, pushed the other back, violently rotating Seruna’s shoulders. He twisted his hips, rolling the girl off him. Seruna head-butted him as he came on top of her. Myles swore as she broke free of his grip. Both combatants scrambled to their feet. Seruna threw a punch. Myles ducked the blow. Again they fiercely clinched. Then the brassy cry of a horn interrupted the wild fight.
“What was that?” gasped Myles.
“An alarm,” responded Seruna as she shoved him away and scrambled into her clothes. “Stay here where you won’t be in my way,” she commanded as she grabbed a sword from its wall mounting, opened the door, and burst out onto the deck.
Myles cursed. This was a violent world. If he were to have any chance at a decent life, he had to earn these people’s respect, and to do so, he had to prove himself worthy of it. The young man grabbed another sword, belted it to his waist along with two daggers, and stepped out of the cabin. The deck was alive with the king’s guards swiftly preparing for battle. Captain Heknem was at the helm bellowing orders to his crew. Thaxis and Seruna were by his side. A fierce expression was on the princess’s face as she glared at the approaching craft.
Myles made his way to her and also stared at the other fek bearing down upon them from the stern. The unknown vessel had sails, but the sheets were furled. Wind was clearly not the motive force propelling it.
The princess scowled at Myles briefly as he stopped beside her, then turned her attention back to the approaching craft. More important matters were at hand.
“What magic is this?” Seruna snarled as she gazed at the boat, now just two hundred feet away. “How can a ship move against the current without employing oars or sails?”
“It’s not magic,” grimly stated Myles. “It’s Earth science. Some hostile power has broken the technological embargo. In exchange for zelenite, part of the agreement between your government and mine involved only education in the fields of medicine and basic science - a foundation on which to develop your own technology rather than become dependent on us.”
“Enough talk,” snarled the king. “Our foes draw near. Prepare to fight.”
Thaxis barked an order. Archers let fly their arrows. Black shafts shot toward the closing craft like a swarm of enraged hornets. The hissing sleet of iron points fell upon the enemy. Raised shields took the brunt of the attack, but several hapless sailors fell, pierced by the flying death, screaming out their last breaths as they lay writhing in agony on the deck.
Then the enemy responded. Warriors hurled canisters from slings. Some missed, most landed on the King’s Ship. Green vapors erupted from the gas grenades. A sickly sweet scent filled the air. More missiles thudded on the boards, furiously jetting their emerald contents. The mist thickly swirled. The entire ship was enveloped. Myles felt dizzy. His vision blurred.
“It’s an anesthetic gas,” he cried. But his warning was too late. All around him, warriors and sailors were falling unconscious on the deck. The king and Seruna collapsed. Myles staggered, trying to fight the creeping blackness in his vision. Half-blinded, he stumbled against the waist-high taffrail. His torso slumped over it. For a moment, Myles, half-conscious, hung precariously balanced. Then the enemy ship bumped against their side, and overboard he went. His body plunged into the water with a mighty splash and disappeared beneath the surface of the river.
**********
Seruna opened her eyes. She was in a ship’s cabin, but it wasn’t her own. The princess tried to move and swore. She was bound hand and foot to a table, her arms and legs spread wide. There was no sign of her father. Fear for him gripped her heart. Where was he? A prisoner also? Who had captured them and how? Then she remembered the swirling green vapors - a drug of some kind? And the prince from Earth, where was the fool?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the cabin door. A man entered the room and bolted the panel behind him. He was a human, but not the prince. The stranger was much taller and had the bulging muscles of a professional bodybuilder. He had dark brown hair and hazel eyes. His large nose was bent at a slight angle, as if it had been broken in the past, and there was a long scar on his right cheek. An aura of quiet ruthlessness surrounded him as he strode toward her with predatory grace.
“Where is my father, the king,” snapped Seruna, refusing to be intimidated despite her perilous situation.
“I am Alexei Ivanov,” the man announced with a slight bow. “Unfortunately, your father suffered a severe allergic reaction to the anesthetic that we used. Regrettably, he is dead.”
For a moment, Seruna couldn’t speak, so shocked was she by the terrible news. Then her raw emotions exploded like a bomb, and she unleashed a spray of savage words as she strained mightily in a writhing fit of feral rage against the ropes that bound her securely to the heavy table.
Ivanov stood quietly. Unmoved by the girl’s suffering, he allowed the storm of words to pass until at last Seruna lay panting and breathless, exhausted by her futile struggles and debilitating loss.
“And now to business,” he briskly said. “The marriage to Raymond Myles will not take place. Affected by the gas, he stumbled against the railing and fell overboard. No doubt he drowned in the river. It saved me the trouble of killing him.”
Seruna found her voice. “What do you want?” she dully asked.
“My government wishes to secure the rights to mine Menvar’s zelenite deposits. You will become queen now that your father has died. The noble blood of royalty from the era of the Tzars flows strongly in my veins, unlike that of the commoner who sought to marry you. We will wed in accordance with your customs and thus solidify a pact with my nation, like the one your father sought with England’s polity.”
Seruna looked at him, her fury roused again like fire from the ashes. “Marry you?” she cried in hot outrage. “The murderer of my father. You must be mad.” And to emphasize her intense disdain that overrode all reason, she unwisely spat in her captor’s face.
Ivanov smiled thinly as he wiped away the spittle. The Russian was the product of a cruel regime, and like his masters, he saw brutality as the solution to recalcitrance. “I think you need to fully realize your position,” he softly said as he removed an object from the breast pocket of his shirt. The device resembled a ballpoint pen in size and shape, except it had two prongs at its tip, and at its other end a small dial rather than a push button.
The Russian grasped the single shoulder strap of Seruna’s dress. He broke it with a violent jerk and pulled the fabric down, then thrust the pen-like instrument against her shoulder muscle. She screamed in agony as the electric shock hit her with a blast of pain like none she’d ever felt before.
“There are far more sensitive areas of your body to which this shock-tube can be applied,” he calmly said as he used the other end to tap her large, dark nipples. “Now, cooperate, or shall I demonstrate the seriousness of my resolve?”
But before he could carry out the threat, the cabin’s transom windows shattered as Myles hurled himself through them and into the room.
The young man came at Ivanov, his sword swinging in a mighty stroke. But the agile Russian dodged the blow and lashed out with a powerful kick. His boot heel slammed against Myles’ ribs. The young man gasped in agony and dropped his blade. Ivanov struck with his shock-tube. Myles, fighting through pain, managed to catch his wrist, jamming the downward stab. They grappled madly. The Russian tried to knee his opponent in the groin. Myles slammed his knee into the fellow’s thigh to block the blow.
Ivanov grunted in pain. He was off balance. Myles seized the slight advantage. He flung the Russian across his hip. The door handle of the cabin rattled as Ivanov struck the boards. Someone pounded on the panel. Myles cursed. The sound of breaking glass and the fight had alerted the enemy. The young man snatched up his sword. Raising it above his head, he prepared to decapitate his stunned antagonist. Then the door splintered as something heavy struck it twice in quick succession.
The distraction caused Myles to miss his foe. His sword bit into wood, stuck fast. Ivanov rolled clear, snatched up a chair as a shield, and shouted harshly to his men outside the cabin to hurry up. Again, the door vibrated under a heavy blow as the Russian prudently backed toward it. In but seconds, avenging foes would flood the room. The young man swiftly slashed Seruna’s bonds with his dagger. “We’ve got to go,” he said as he hauled her from the table.
Seruna ignored him. She grabbed his sword and wrenched it from the boards, vengeance burning brightly in her heart. But before she could engage the fiend in fierce combat, a final blow sent the door crashing to the floor. Warriors - indigenous mercenaries - poured into the cabin more dangerous than a pack of wild dogs. The Russian yelled commands. His men rushed toward the couple.
Ivanov was shielded by his mercenaries. Seruna cursed. She hurled her sword into the face of the foremost warrior. The man screamed, collapsed, blood gushing from a mortal wound. Several mercenaries tripped over the body, slowing down the charge and sowing chaos. Myles and the princess seized the moment. Swiftly, they raced to the broken transom window and dove through it. Two war-darts hissed past Myles, missing him by a fraction of an inch as they plunged into the river. Both were powerful swimmers and soon put a safe distance between themselves and their heinous attackers.
**********
About an hour had passed since their dramatic escape from the enemy vessel. Myles and Seruna rested in the forest that cloaked the river’s shoreline, recovering from their arduous swim. The young man was far from relaxed. He peered through the trees, worried that their foes might be in pursuit. So far he’d been lucky. The fall into the river had quickly revived him. The cold water had countered the anesthetic gas, and he had managed to swim subsurface to the attacking boat, another fek, realizing that any prisoners would be transferred to it.
The indigenous river boats had a shallow draft, and so the transom windows at the stern were fairly close to the water line. Here, he had clung to the rudder and, after catching his breath, had severed the steering cables before rescuing Seruna. His sabotage would delay their enemies, but not entirely stop them.
Myles turned to the princess. “Our foes may have repaired the severed rudder cables by now, and with steering regained, they will pursue. We must move on.”
Seruna, who had been surreptitiously and thoughtfully observing Myles, held up her hand. “I’m not taking another step until you answer some questions,” she said firmly. “Ivanov called you a commoner. Are you or are you not a prince?”
“My royal title is legitimate,” replied Myles.
Seruna’s eyes narrowed, sensing an evasion. She stood, her body tense with anger. “To the Third Hell with your title. My father is dead. I have been abused. I’m not in the mood for deception. Are your parents commoners or royals? If you lie to me, I swear by Holy Thanos I’ll disembowel you and strangle you with your own entrails.”
Myles hesitated. He considered trying to continue the pretense, but then decided against it. The truth was out, and it was pointless to attempt to deny it. He took a deep breath and then fully explained the circumstances surrounding his arrival in this world.
“I’m sorry I had to do this. My intention was not to insult you,” he concluded. “But it was the only way I could save my sister’s life.”
Seruna glared at him, unmoved by his noble motives. It was bad enough that she was being forced into this unwanted marriage by royal duty, a duty that not even her father’s death would negate. But then discovering her fiancee was nothing but a commoner made royal by the stroke of a scribal implement added insult to the spectrum of her egregious displeasure. The princess was of half a mind to kill this upstart peasant who, on the wedding night, would soil her with his polluting touch. It would be a good outlet for not being able to butcher Ivanov.
They were alone in the wilderness. No one would be a witness to the murder. All it would take would be a quick dagger thrust, and she would be rid of him forever. But on the other hand, he had saved her from captivity and torture, thus proving himself more useful than she’d thought. Given their current situation, common sense dictated that she use him to enhance her survival until he became unnecessary.
“We have common foes,” she said, hiding her true feelings. “It is best that we work together to escape them. Holy Thanos is closer to us than Menvar. We must depart for the temple at once. Its strong walls will protect us from our enemies and allow me time to plan my revenge.”
Myles wondered if that retribution included him.
**********
It was now mid-morning of the following day. Tired, footsore, and hungry, Myles gazed on the dark mass of Holy Thanos. The temple had been built on a small island in the middle of the river and looked more like a fortress than a shrine. The building’s plan was pentagonal in shape, the walls sloping inwards as they rose to an impressive height with pentagonal towers at the corners of the structure, adding to the martial impression of its brutalist architecture.
Holy Thanos was exclusively the cult of the royal family. Not much was known about the secretive religion, except that it was obviously different from the Divine Light, a faith that had been brought to Menvar many centuries ago by missionaries from far Uchan.
Seruna’s return interrupted his musings. The princess tossed him some of the wild berries she had gathered - grape-like fruits with fuzzy skins the color of ripe olives.
“Eat,” she commanded. “The azron will give you strength. We must swim to the island, for there are no boats to convey us.”
They quickly finished their meal, Myles finding the azron rather bland. But the food’s lack of flavor was compensated for by its invigorating effect, and when, after allowing their meal to digest, they waded out through the reed-like growths festooning the riverbank and entered the water proper, he felt confident he’d have the strength to reach the island's shore.
Both plunged into the river, their bodies cleaving the water with steady, powerful strokes. The island loomed as the current carried them diagonally towards it. The shore was about fifty yards away when Myles spotted a fek rounding the river bend, hitherto concealed by its forested curve. The young man silently cursed. The craft was moving against the current with its sails furled. It could only be the enemy.
Seruna also saw the ship. A shout rang out from the approaching craft - someone had spotted them. The vessel accelerated, heading directly toward the swimmers. The couple redoubled their efforts to gain the island’s shore. Their bodies sliced through the water as the fek closed the distance with alarming swiftness. Closer it came, nearer still. A bow twanged. An arrow hissed past Myles in a narrow miss. It spurred his frantic efforts.
The gasping couple entered the island’s small cove. Breathless, they staggered up the water stairs. Another arrow pinged off the stone treads as the temple loomed over them. Goaded by fear and desperation, they stumbled towards the shrine’s huge door as the pursuing craft reached the temple’s jetty. Warriors leaped over its side in hot pursuit as Seruna madly struck the gong by the building’s entrance.
Myles turned, so exhausted he could barely stand. The racing warriors were almost upon them. In his condition, resistance was impossible. Nonetheless, he drew his remaining dagger and prepared to defend himself and Seruna as best he could. The speeding foe was almost upon them when the huge, iron-bound door opened. Seruna grabbed Myles and thrust him roughly through the narrow gap. She swiftly followed, and the door slammed shut in the faces of the raging foe.
**********
A little over an hour had passed. Under the circumstances, the ritual blessing of the marriage had been deferred. Myles now stood on the parapet of the temple’s high wall, anxiously watching the activity by the moored ship. Ivanov, despite being stymied, hadn’t given up in the slightest. The Russian was supervising his native mercenaries as they assembled a machine, and the young man had a good idea of what the device was.
“There is no need to worry,” said Tusid, high priest of Thanos as he observed Myles’ worried expression. “They lack siege engines to breach our walls, and our cellars are well stocked with food and drink. The wings of the zevios I dispatched are swift. The flying creature will reach Menvar in a few hours with its written message. We can hold out until our avenging warriors arrive.”
“They don’t need siege engines to breach our defenses,” replied Myles, his voice and expression grim.
Seruna, who was standing on his right, snorted derisively. “Are they going to fly over our walls like a zevios?”
“Precisely,” said Myles. “The machine they are assembling is called a flying platform. See how the eight spokes radiate from the central disk. Note that at the end of each rod is a vertical component resembling two paddles joined throat to throat, the blades of which are twisted in opposite directions. They are called rotors. When the rotors spin rapidly, they will lift the machine and its rider high into the air, thus circumventing the ramparts of the temple. We must take shelter and…”
“Shelter?” replied Tusid, cutting him off, unconcerned. “The priests of Thanos, God of war, are also warriors," he continued, pointing at the twenty doughty archers who manned the wall. “And by the look of it, that machine can carry only a single man. Neither I nor my fellow clergymen shall quail before a lone unbeliever. Do you take us for cowards?”
“No,” replied Myles. “But …”
His words were cut off by a high-pitched whine. Ivanov had stepped onto the flying platform, and it now rose high into the air under his control. A few priests let fly their arrows, but the machine was out of range, and the projectiles fell short by a fairly wide margin.
Myles concernedly watched the machine move toward the temple’s ramparts. It slowed, hovering directly high above them. The young man gasped as two black objects fell from beneath the flying platform.
“Down,” he cried as he swiftly flung himself upon Seruna, thrusting her into the lee of a projecting buttress and bearing her to the parapet.
The bombs struck. Twin explosions - thunderous blasts - shook the walls like an earthquake. Billowing sulfurous smoke filled the air with its choking stench. Whining shrapnel struck men down and gouged hard stone with streaking devastation.
Myles looked up, shaken; his ears ringing from the terrific detonations. A scene of carnage met his horrified gaze as he peered from the shelter of the buttress. The blasted wall had collapsed to the sandy courtyard in shattered fragments, and the body parts of all the priests lay strewn about in bloody rags among the rubble. There were no survivors apart from Myles and Seruna.
A bullet pinged off stone, peppering Myles with stinging fragments that caused him to wince. He looked up and swore. Ivanov, armed with an assault rifle, was firing at them. The Russian was high above, but the platform was rapidly descending. In but a moment, he would be close enough not to miss.
“Come on,”cried Myles, grabbing Seruna and hauling the stunned woman to her feet. “To the tower. Quickly now.”
Both dashed for the doorway of the structure as more bullets ricocheted around them. The flying platform swept down on the fleeing pair like a diving hawk upon its prey. Ivanov grinned as he let loose another burst of streaking lead. Myles, who was the target, cried in pain as a projectile grazed his ear. Seruna steadied him as he stumbled. Then the madly racing couple plunged through the open portal of the tower and slammed it closed as strafing fire hammered its thick, iron-bound timbers.
The gasping couple leaned heavily against a wall, panting, and sweat streaked from the frenetic exertions of their harrowing flight. Both tensed as the whine of the flying platform grew louder. There was a slight bump as it landed on the broad parapet, and then a heavy knock sounded on the bolted door as the Russian pounded on it to get their attention.
“Myles,” yelled Ivanov. “Come out, and I’ll let the girl live. Seruna,” he continued, addressing the princess. “My government is prepared to offer many benefits if you grant us mining rights for the zelenite deposits in your kingdom. We could take what we want by force, but why make things unpleasant? This is your last chance. Marry me to solidify the agreement and save yourself and your people from much suffering.”
A desperate plan had formed in Myles’ mind as the Russian had been speaking. “Ivanov,” he shouted. “If you want to marry the princess, the only legitimate way to do so is by killing me in unarmed combat. If you shoot me down, you’ll look like a coward in these people’s eyes. Yes, you could defeat them with modern weapons, but the cost of a military occupation to suppress the inevitable insurgency might prove far too high. Isn’t it better to gain their respect and cooperation by proving you are worthy of being Seruna’s consort?”
Seruna gripped his arm. "Are you mad?” she whispered with more derision than concern. “He is bigger and stronger than you.”
Myles silenced her with a gesture. “I’m betting that his ego won’t let him pass up the challenge. It’s the only hope we have of getting out of this alive,” he said quietly as Ivanov spoke again.
“Seruna, is this true? If I kill this commoner in unarmed combat, will you marry me and grant the mining rights to Russia?”
“Yes,” she convincingly replied at Myles’ whispered urging.
“Good. Myles, I’ll meet you below. There is more room to fight in the courtyard.”
The couple walked to the tower’s stairwell, passing a rack of weapons on the way. They descended the spiraling treads and soon emerged below. Ivanov was already there waiting for them, standing beside the flying platform. He arrogantly strutted toward the pair, confident in his abilities as he flexed his bulky muscles.
Myles warily walked forward to meet him. The Russian grinned and exploded into violent action. He hurled the sand he had concealed in his fist. Myles barely dodged the grit, and then the kick that swiftly followed - one that would have shattered his jaw had it connected. The young man quickly countered. He slammed his foot into Ivanov’s thigh. The wild blow sent the Russian crashing to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, cursing and limping badly.
Myles closed in. He struck out with another kick. But the cunning Russian was not as badly injured as he appeared. With deft agility, Ivanov ducked beneath the swift attack, grabbed his opponent’s leg, and heaved it high above his head.
Ivanov cruelly smiled as Myles fell heavily onto the sand. But as the grinning Russian leaped forward to stomp on his downed opponent’s head, Seruna hurled the concealed throwing knife she’d surreptitiously snatched from the rack of weapons. The flying blade, propelled by all her strength and hate, struck Ivanov in the chest. He staggered back with a gasp, blood spurting from the fatal wound. But before he collapsed in death, the dying Russian managed to push a button on his wrist communicator.
Summoned by the signal, Ivanov’s native mercenaries, who had been waiting outside, scrambled through the breach in the wall that the bombs had made. Myles shot to his feet as the warriors, yelling wild battle cries, raced vengefully toward him.
“Seruna, to the flying platform,” Myles shouted.
Both raced for the vehicle. A spear shot passed Myles’ head as he and his companion swiftly leaped aboard. The machine shot into the air under Myles’ control. Several more spears bounced off its underside. The platform shuddered. A component had been damaged. Enraged warriors surged toward the vehicle as it descended uncontrollably.
Myles cursed as more spears flew past him. Seruna clung to the safety rail, her knuckles white, her face pale. The young man grabbed the machine gun mounted on the railing and sent a burst of fire into the mass of mercenaries. Men screamed and fell. He mowed more down unmercifully. The few survivors fled under the withering fire; their spears and swords, no match for modern weaponry, were cast aside. Then the platform crashed, and Myles was flung violently to the ground.
**********
The young man opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed in a room with white walls. A human man was leaning over him, a concerned expression on his bearded face. “Where am I? Who are you?,” Myles mumbled dazedly.
“I’m Doctor Robertson,” replied the physician. “You’re in the embassy’s medical clinic. I was sent with the Menvari warriors. Fortunately, we reached you in time. You suffered a serious head injury and have been in a coma for two days, but you are out of danger now.”
“Seruna, is she okay?” worriedly asked Myles as the fog began to clear from his mind.
“She is fine, apart from a broken arm, some lacerations, and bruising. Now, keep still while I run some more tests. If the results are good, then you can see her.”
About half an hour later, Seruna limped into the room. Her plastered right arm was in a sling, and her face was bruised in places, but apart from that, she seemed reasonably well. The princess pulled up a chair and sat next to him. She stared at Myles in awkward silence. He could sense a change in her and could tell she wanted to say something, but didn’t quite know how to go about it.
“I’m glad you weren’t badly injured,” he said, breaking the ice. “I’m sorry about the crash. A better pilot could probably have avoided it.”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she blurted out. “I’ve said and done things to you that I shouldn’t have. You’ve proven yourself to be a better man than I thought you were, and I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”
The princess lowered her gaze. “When we were resting by the river, I even contemplated killing you,” she shamefacedly confessed.
For a moment, Myles was speechless. “Well,” he said, shocked and unnerved by her frankness. “I understand that you were being compelled to marry a man you had never met for entirely political reasons. The situation was hardly conducive to feelings of benevolence. But killing your betrothed? Dear God, but that’s extreme! What stopped you?”
“Initially, I stayed my hand out of self-interest. I needed help and saw you as a tool to aid in my survival. To think of murder is one thing, but when I looked upon you as you lay injured and on the verge of dying from the flying platform’s crash, I found that I didn’t truly want your death. And so, moved by compassion I didn’t think I’d ever feel, I tended to your wounds as best I could until the rescue party arrived with the doctor.”
Myles remained silent for a while, processing all this information. Seruna was a complex mix of contradictions: potentially a ruthless killer and brutally honest about it; yet, surprisingly, also capable of pity. A hot-tempered woman with a tongue sharper than honed steel, yet at times lost for words when attempting to express finer sentiments. Faced with all of this, what was he to do?
“You’ve been honest with me,” he said at last, choosing his words carefully. “And I’m grateful for that. This is an arranged marriage neither of us can escape. At the very least, we must be friends, and to aid in this, I’ll start by forgiving you for everything you’ve done.”
Seruna reached out and gently took his hand, showing the softer side of her nature. “Thank you for your understanding. We are no longer complete strangers, and as we get to know each other better, I hope that our feelings will grow beyond camaraderie.”
“That is my hope also,” said Myles with a smile as he placed his hand on hers. “Neither one of us deserves to be unloved.”
His wish did not prove to be in vain.
The End