Chapter 3 Part 6

Tyson gazed across the dancing flames of the fire into the burning eyes of the gagged and bound druid woman. Here in the wilderness on a forest road was where she was the most dangerous. Should her gag slip, or her hands get loose, she would be able to summon the druidic forces of nature to her aid. In their present location that would be a disaster for Tyson and his troops.

As a precaution, Tyson had warded the gag and ropes so that they would remain sealed until he personally removed them. He apologized--somewhat halfheartedly--that the elf woman would not be allowed to eat or drink but once a day and Tyson personally would stand with a knife over Sam's throat to keep her in line. It was really a bluff, for he would never harm the boy, but she did not know that.

"Oh, yes," Tyson had warned her. "I spent twelve years traveling with Sam's mother. She was a very powerful druid. If you try a spell, I’ll know it." He would only allow her gag to be removed for her to drink. And even then he would erect a field of silence so that she could make no sounds.

When she had requested to relieve herself. Tyson had smiled and assured her that she would receive a bath and fresh clothing when they arrived at their destination. He gave her permission to relieve herself right where she was, bound and gagged as she was. He also mentioned that the guards were a little aggressive at night and that she might view her dirtiness as a means of preserving her monogamy.

Her garments were soiled greatly, but her reduced diet had cut down the frequency of her bowl movements and urination. Still in spite of that she had managed to vomit on several occasions. Tyson observed that she showed no concern for it, in fact it actually seemed to give her satisfaction, for the guards were beginning to whisper that she was with plague. Tyson had stomped that rumor fairly early, but as with all rumors, it simply refused to die out completely.

As they sat next to a fire inside a ring of tents and a picket line of horses, Tyson spoke absently to the elf woman. "So there we were, your Avery and I. His bow string had snapped and the raft we were on was about to go over a waterfall." Tyson had spent the evening entertaining his guest with stories of her mate.

"Avery doesn't swear very much, but at that moment he would have made a whore blush. We all knew that Keeneye had stolen his spare bowstring the day before, but no one could guess how much we’d need it." Tyson laughed heartily. "Fortunately Armegon was on the shore and he threw us a rope. When we got to shore Avery was so mad that he leaped almost ten meters to shore where he pounced on Keeneye. We thought he was going to kill the archer."

Tyson saw what he thought might have been a tiny smile behind the gag. "I can see that you’ve also seen a trace of that ranger's temper. We were beginning to think Avery didn’t have one until that day. Samson and Seymore had to drag him off Keeneye. Yes, your lover has a temper like an H-bomb. He’s as safe and easy to get along with as anyone you’ll meet. He can take abuse without end and keep on smiling, but under the right circumstances, Boom!" Tyson threw his hands up and wide demonstratively. "The best part is that it comes without warning. Alas, though I fear you may never see him again much less experience his temper."

Tyson saw the eyes begin to water. He was getting to her. "I’m terribly sorry that you got mixed up in all this. It would’ve been much better if you and Avery had remained blissfully ignorant and uninvolved. If anyone, you should blame Armegon and Ultrecht for invading your private little paradise. I can assure you we wouldn’t have bothered you way out in your forest like that. In fact my employer’s made a policy that the druids are to be left alone. After all you folks don't take sides in the eternal battle between good and evil, and we’ll need someone to care for the animals and wilderness for us. So we let you alone and you stay within your own little world. We might even have disregarded Avery. He wasn’t likely to cause much trouble if left alone.”

“Armegon and Ultrecht are a different story, though," Tyson rambled on. "Those two can't keep to themselves. Armegon’s far too arrogant to believe that the world will go on without him, and Ultrecht’s too curious about the world to ignore it. They both would end up drawing attention to themselves. Actually," Tyson said reflecting momentarily, "the real problem is Armegon. Ultrecht would’ve probably gotten along with Morteous quite well. They’re very similar to each other in many respects."

Tyson noted that Nikki was getting sleepy. He smiled and helped her to lie down. Then he spread a light blanket across her before departing for his tent. He paused and addressed the night watch. "Keep a very close eye on her," he warned. "We’ll be getting back into Aspberg tomorrow, so if she’s going to try to escape, she’ll try it tonight."

Nikki lay on her back. She detested the blanket Tyson had spread over her. The night air was chilly and she shivered in spite of the blanket. She would rather freeze than accept any kindness from that monster. The crackle of the fire was the only sound she could detect of her surroundings. The many men and the fire had scared away most of the wildlife in the area. The trees whispered their offerings of aid and advice, but with her hands bound and her voice stifled, she could not summon the magic necessary to animate them.

She was indeed despairing. The past few days of traveling and the layer of filth covering her body had dampened her spirit to the point that she was anxious to get to Aspberg if only to get fed and bathed. At that point she did not even care if Tyson himself scrubbed her back.

For Sam's sake, and the sake of the life she bore, she suffered in silence. Were she sure of Sam's safety, and if she were not pregnant, she would indeed antagonize Tyson or try to seduce a guard into freeing her long enough for her to attack.

Patience, she had to be patient. She resolved to bide her time and at the proper moment she would seize an opportunity and make good their escape. Either she would take Sam with her or she would not go. Eventually they would let their guard down.

The next morning, Tyson and the guards broke camp and with their charges completed their journey to Aspberg. As they entered the city, Tyson felt comfortable enough to have Nikki's gag removed. "Summon the forces of nature in this city," he taunted, "if you can."

"Should I summon the vermin of the streets or will they be waiting for us at your home?" she retaliated.

"Oh very good," Tyson commended. "I’ve so missed the wit and cut that my former associates had. I can see that some of Armegon has rubbed off on you."

"I'll do my best to keep you entertained," she spat back.

"You'd do well to speak a little more respectfully, girl," one of the guards snapped, "about the citizens of this city. No vermin dwell in the citadel."

"You mean Blackheart? Living off the suffering of others sounds like an excellent description of vermin."

The guard drew his short sword and reared back to strike, but was intercepted by Tyson.

"Control yourself, soldier," he chastised the man. "She was testing you." He glanced meaningfully at Nikki. "She doesn't mean to compare the House of Blackheart with vermin."

The guard watched Nikki for a moment. She rewarded him with a cold unemotional stare. Finally the man at arms re-sheathed his weapon and returned to his fellows. Tyson readdressed the druid. "If you value your life and Sam's safety, you might reconsider your comments about the city's patron house."

Nikki smiled for the first time during the trip. "Of course you are right," she agreed. "Vermin was too polite. An organism that lives off another organism is a parasite."

Tyson chortled. "That’s a very good comparison. But I suggest you don’t voice it in other company."

Nikki's first impression or Morteous Blackheart was that he was a fairly handsome man. His features were strong, even though his body was melancholy, the result of not enough exercise. The warlock obviously spent too much time thinking and not enough time working. Still all in all his elven ancestry gave him a fair complexion. His jet black hair was pulled back and slicked down wetly. He wore the traditional silver mantle of the head of a major house of the Keronian realm. The pendant around his neck supported the ruby stone signifying the House of Blackheart as an Earldom.

Though not properly cleaned nor presentable, Nikki saw no reason not to be polite. "Lord Blackheart," she greeted him. "As powerful as Aspberg has become, I would have expected it to be a duchy by now."

Morteous smiled. The other occupants of the audience chamber were not so well self controlled and showed their disgust at the druid's appearance involuntarily. "I fear," Morteous replied, "that the king has long overlooked that particular aspect of his duties. Of the other dukedoms, Allentown, Tycho, and Haganaw, only Allentown is larger and economically more powerful than Aspberg. It is one of our hopes that someday soon the emerald pendant of a duke will replace the present ruby."

Nikki found that in spite of the pain and suffering the Blackheart clan had visited upon her and the others, they were not at all monsters. "I am sure that the legendary ambition of the Blackheart line will eventually win its goals," she replied.

"Of that you can rest assured," Morteous agreed. "And speaking of rest, we are certain that you could use some rest and refreshment. Please consider yourself a guest of House Blackheart, albeit a restrained guest. When you are comfortable, we shall speak again. I look forward to it."

Nikki bowed and was led, gracefully for a change, from the chamber. She was directed to the lower levels where she was turned over to a trio of warrior women. They took her to the baths where she was allowed to clean herself. She did so diligently. When she finished, clean garments, a rich red and black gown was given to her. She donned the clothing reveling in the elegance of the satin and cotton mixture.

She was led from the baths to a room which had been allotted for her. The room was high above the ground, but it had a window she could see through. A lattice of steel bars prevented any egress, but at least she could see and get fresh air.

"There is a spell on the room," a polite voice said from the door. "Your druidic powers will not function. We would be very remiss should you alter your form into that of a bird and fly away."

Nikki turned and found herself face to face with a younger and more human version of the head of House Blackheart. "Miguel Blackheart, I presume," she addressed the stranger.

"You are as perceptive as you are lovely," the other returned. "My uncle spoke favorably as did Tyson." Miguel stepped away from the doorway. He wore a red robe bound by a black belt. His hair was the same color as his uncle's, but was parted down the middle and feathered back. He also wore a mustache and goatee, both neatly trimmed. He was tall, this son of the god, Ragnera. Over two meters tall, Miguel too was a handsome man.

"How can such manly beauty house such a foul evil?" Nikki asked to herself.

Miguel heard the comment and provided an answer. "What is one man's evil is not necessarily another man's. We work towards a goal that while painful in the beginning, will ultimately prove beneficial to the world."

"You mean to those who survive, don't you?" Nikki returned.

Miguel bowed his admission. "Would you join me?" he asked extending an arm.

Nikki suspected that the request was a formality and that she really had no choice. Reluctantly she accepted the escort. "Where are you taking me?"

"To eat, of course," he laughed. "We are not, after all, uncivilized. You will be dining with my uncle, Tyson and myself this evening. We are all looking forward to this evening's meal."

Nikki's jaw hardened. Tyson had not been able to draw anything very useful from her on the road. So now they were going to interrogate her en masse. "Then by all means," she said to her escort, "let us proceed.
"
Morteous and Tyson were seated at a large table in a miniature version of the audience chamber. This room was richly decorated with tapestries and sculptures. Four fully armored members of the elite house guard were stationed in the room as well.

"They tried to hide it and their efforts were good, but the healer made a tiny slip," Tyson was saying. "She accidentally referred to the unborn child in the masculine sense."

Morteous frowned. That was indeed grave news. "If the Dukes of Hell learn this..."

"I though of that as well," Tyson assured him. "That’s why I didn’t openly use the communication device. This information must be closely guarded."

"What can we do?" Morteous asked thoughtfully. "We most certainly do not want to lose the alliance with the Dukes of Hell."

"The Doyr are also a powerful alliance," Tyson added. "We don't want to go back on the agreement we made with them."

Morteous slammed his fist on the table. "What are the odds that Miguel would father a male this one time out of the hundreds before?"

"Not very good, I would think," Tyson replied. "Do you think the conception was manipulated?"

Morteous considered that. "It is conceivable, if you will pardon the pun," he decided with a smirk.

Tyson waved the joke off. "I've heard 'em all," he stated flatly. "The others used puns as a past time."

"We had considered manipulating a pregnancy, but the stipulation for the passing of an heir of the house requires the blood to be untainted by magical alteration."

Tyson leaned forward and propped his elbows up on the table. "If we could prove magical involvement, we could discredit any claim to the throne."

"They know that as well," Morteous said. "I think I know what they did. We thought of it as well. They did not actually work magic on the babe, they spelled the priestess and conditioned her body to accept only a male seed."

Tyson frowned. "I didn’t think your people or any others on this planet had the scientific understanding to know that the sex gene was transmitted by the male."

Morteous eyebrows lifted. "I did not really understand what you just said," he admitted. "I assume you know how the gender of a child is determined?"

"It’s ingrained in the father's seed," Tyson informed him.

Morteous nodded. "That is of no consequence," he said.
"Unless you are a female slave who frequents Miguel's sleeping chamber," Tyson pointed out. "I’d never question your traditions, but it seems a little cold to kill maidens who give birth to daughters when Miguel is the one who determines gender."

Morteous agreed. "It does, but the families take a chance. They gamble their daughters' lives against a barony."

Tyson understood. "Their choice then? I see. Well if they know the chances, then they cannot argue with the outcome."

"You raise a point though," Morteous regressed. "How did they manipulate the conception? I believe that they spelled the wench Miguel bedded. The Doyr are a matriarchy and demon worshipers. They may know more about child conception than any other group of people in the world. They might have spelled the girl's body to protect the male carrying seed and reject the others. In that sense, the child itself is untouched by magic."

"It still is a questionable conception," Tyson pointed out.

“It is," Morteous agreed, "and we could disclaim it for that purpose should they try to claim heirship to the throne. Still, I would like to avoid that episode altogether if I could. The whole scenario could bring about a civil war within the House. There are many vassals of House Blackheart who are anxious to see the promise of a continued line."

"Such were my thoughts as well," Tyson agreed.

A noise from outside the room heralded the arrival of the other dining guests. Morteous straightened his posture. "We will continue this with Miguel after dinner. Right now we have a guest to entertain."

The door opened and Miguel entered escorting Nikki. He guided her to a chair and Morteous and Tyson stood as she was seated.

"My dear," Morteous began, "you look marvelous. Rarely has elven beauty graced the
walls of this keep. You are as a ray of sunshine on a dreary day."

Tyson smirked. "How do you do, Nikki?" He seated himself as did the others. "I take it you’re finding Lord Blackheart's hospitality acceptable?"

Nikki nodded. "I will not let it be said in my presence that Lord Blackheart is not a gentleman," she assured him. "You, on the other hand, are hardly a gentle dog."

"Tsk, tsk," Miguel shook his head. "Tyson, did you mistreat the lady?"

"I don’t think it is her treatment that has her so angry at me as it is who I sold out," Tyson corrected. "M'lords allow me to introduce you to Nikki, druid, guardian of the boy, and lover of the wielder of Liberator."

"Well, now," Morteous said surprised. "This is quite a bargaining chip you have brought us, Tyson. How did you determine this?"

Tyson folded his hands and propped his chin in them with his elbows on the table. "Oh, it’s not too difficult to tell," he assured them. "I know Avery. She has spent over a year with him alone in the forest. Now Avery isn’t one to push a woman to compromise herself, but he is a man. Also, she knows a little too much about him to be a casual acquaintance. Trust me, they are involved."

As he spoke, servants carted in a series of exotic dishes and placed hot plates of food before each of the diners. "In addition," he continued, "some of the things she mentioned indicated that should anything happen to her, he might get a little more than irritated."

"Perhaps if he were to learn that she was our guest," Morteous offered, "he might be inclined to behave himself."

"Probably not," Nikki assured them. "If Avery knew I was here, he would more than likely come after me."

"He would attempt to storm this castle?" Miguel asked incredulously. "I did not think him a fool."

"And he isn’t," Tyson defended his former ally. "Avery would more than likely infiltrate the Citadel than storm its walls. That’s more like Armegon's style."

"Still," Morteous refused to believe the possibility, "for an individual to try to sneak in would be suicide."

"Don't underestimate that one," Tyson advised. "It’s been done far too often and very, very few of those who did so are still around to regret it."

Morteous nodded. "We consider ourselves warned." He studied Nikki for a moment. "Now, my dear, please enjoy your meal while we discuss your friends."

Miguel opened a very small chest and from its velvet lined interior draw forth a large gemstone. He passed it to Nikki. "Gaze deeply into this, my pretty," he coaxed.

Sensing danger, Nikki asked, "Why?"

"We simply want to show you that Sam isn’t in any danger," Tyson explained.

"I do not trust you," she pointed directly at Tyson. "You have a history of lying to get what you want."

"Have you ever heard it said that I have lied?" Morteous asked.

"No," Nikki admitted. "I have heard terrible things about you, but that was not among them."

"Those stories are exaggerated, to be sure," Morteous assured her. "Had we desired your death, it would already be so. I give you my word, you will not be harmed while you are in this room."

The thought of what might happen as soon as she left died on her lips. He was correct. If they had wanted to harm her they would have done so long before. Nikki glanced back at Tyson. He showed no anticipation nor did Miguel. She concluded, therefore that Morteous, at least for the moment, was being truthful. As she raised the gem to her eye, the thought occurred to her that the reason that no one had ever said that Morteous Blackheart was a liar might be because no one had survived to do so.

Gazing into the gem, she was startled by the image she saw there. There were two figures locked in a timeless loving embrace. One of the two figures was Sam.

"Yes, that is he," Tyson broke her vision and Nikki realized that she had spoken his name. "As you can see he’s unharmed and in no danger whatsoever. The other person that you see is a simulacrum of Marlena, his mother. Right now the boy’s frozen in time and in his mother's arms. Since he never met her, he won’t know the difference."

"So that is how you gained control of him," Nikki deduced. "What better bait than his mother?"

"Precisely," Tyson replied. "You see, I deeply care for that boy too. In spite of any threats I may’ve made, I wouldn’t have harmed him. Everything that’s happening right now is completely independent of him. He’s totally unaware of it all. All he knows right now is his mother's love."

"The love of a surrogate?" Nikki asked. "Do you think that little speech makes you less a monster?"

"This is a good start," Morteous interrupted. "You and Tyson can continue this argument later. Right now we have some other questions."

"First of all," Miguel reminded them, "we should let the lady have something to eat."

"Of course," Morteous agreed. "How insensitive of me? By all means, please enjoy yourself." He then turned his attention to his own plate.

They ate quickly and Nikki nibbled at her own food at first then commenced to wolf several mouthfuls down. She had fasted for so long that her stomach had shrunken, but still it was empty, and an empty stomach is very uncomfortable.

After a quarter of an hour, she pushed her plate away. The men were almost complete with their meals as well. She wondered just how much they knew. If only she knew where to start, she could steer them in the wrong direction.

From their discussion, she was aware that Tyson knew the others had gone west, and that they were in search of someone. He never did mention the Emerald Monocerus, though. Perhaps she could start there.

"Now young lady," Morteous began, "where did your friends go?"

"Fishing?" It had aggravated Tyson the first time. This time there was no reaction.

"Oh? And you as a druid approved?" Miguel countered.

"I am afraid you have fallen prey to a common misconception," Nikki explained. "Druids do not oppose the hunting of animals, so long as it is for natural use. My friends may fish as long as they want so long as they eat what they catch and waste nothing."

Miguel smirked. "Fine, fine. So where did they go fishing?"

Nikki paused, Tyson knew they had gone west. "West," she answered.

"And who were they seeking?"

Nikki turned to Tyson. "I never said that."

"Yes, Tyson," Morteous agreed, "she has not mentioned any other men."
Nikki's mouth twitched.

"Woman then," Miguel interrupted.

Nikki was on to their game now. While two of them grilled her, the third would watch for telltale signs of confirmation. Her work was cut out for her. Fortunately, they had made one false assumption, the assumption that they were seeking a humanoid. As a druid, she considered a unicorn as a person, but neither man nor woman fitted the description. Blind luck had given her a false trail she could work with.

"What woman were they searching for? What does she do that’s so valuable to them?" Tyson asked.

"What should I care what another woman does for a living?" Nikki snapped.

"Knowing who’s involved," Tyson hypothesized, "I’d suspect that she was a sage or witch of some kind."

"A witch?" Nikki asked.

"What did this witch have that they needed?" Morteous asked.

"She did not have anything." Nikki replied.

"Perhaps you did not understand the question," Miguel interrupted. "What my uncle is trying to ask is what did she know?"

Nikki paused long enough to make it seem that she was doing so involuntarily. "She did not know anything either."

Tyson did not miss the action. "Of course she did," he argued. "What did she know. How to free Sam?"

This time the pause was real. Tyson had hit the nail on the head. Nikki rubbed her eyes. She felt light headed. In spite of all her efforts, they had gotten the reason of the journey from her even if they had missed the person the others were seeking and the thing they needed.

Suddenly Nikki felt a twinge in her stomach. The food was not settling well. Almost desperately she concentrated on something nauseous. The result was a repeat of her last interview except that she emptied her stomach on the floor instead of Tyson.

Miguel politely gripped her shoulders and helped her back up. "Please," he offered, "let me help you. Are you sick?"

Desperately Nikki assured him that she was not sick. She explained that she was used to natural fresh foods, and sometimes when she visits a city the preserved food makes her sick.

Miguel stared at her for a moment then nodded. "Allow me to have someone see you to your quarters. There you may request whatever food you desire." He summoned a guard and repeated the instructions. The guard politely ushered Nikki from the room and a servant entered to clean the mess.

The three sat silently until the servant had completed his task and departed. Miguel leaned forward. "Well?"

"She is very good at lying, herself," Morteous observed. “When I tapped her mind I discovered that she has been leading us a long merry tale for a while." He folded his hands. "They went west to meet someone, but that is all that was true. I think they were seeking a non-humanoid, but I can not be certain."

"That sickness of hers is mighty convenient," Tyson observed.

"I thought so too," Miguel agreed. “When I helped her I searched for a disease and found none. It may be as she says, but I am still puzzled."

"There is one other possibility, " Morteous suggested. "At first I did not understand it, but it makes more sense now. When I tapped her mind, I felt more than one mind present--immature, yet very potent."

"You mean she is with child?" Miguel asked. "That would account for the nausea."

"The father is undoubtedly Avery," Tyson said with a grin. "You know, my lord this might answer your problem."

Morteous looked puzzled. "Please explain." Tyson did.

"That is preposterous," Miguel exclaimed. "It is unthinkable, it is...it is..."

"Ingenious," Morteous finished. "It is a plan worthy of a Blackheart."

Tyson accepted the praise. He had outlined the possibility of using Nikki to eliminate the threat of a male Blackheart in the clutches of the Doyr. If Nikki's own child was male, they could swap it for the female child of one of the slave girls Miguel had blessed making it seem that the slave girl had borne an heir.

With no legitimate claim on the throne, the Doyr would undoubtedly turn their heir to another path. When the way was clear for a legitimate heir who would eventually be born to take the throne, Nikki's son could be accidentally pushed off a cliff or something of that nature.

Should the child be female, a little extra magic would easily change that. At the present stage in fetal development, the sex change would be simple. Since it would not be a true Blackheart in the first place and would never live to sit on the throne, what would it matter if it had been magically altered.

"Miguel," Morteous ordered, "I think that House Blackheart should show its compassionate side by giving its guest a complete physical. Find out where we stand."

Miguel smiled. "It would be a pleasure."