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Damara is the long awaited messiah of the Namarian people. She has the powers of the gods. |
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She was the most powerful being on Antares, destined never to know love… The Namarian Sorceress Prologue Taranis, the Sky Father and ruler of the Namarian gods sat upon his golden throne high in the clouds of Cajarnis Astoria, home of the Namarian deities. His black bearded face bore an exasperated look. Next to him on her own golden throne, sat his wife and consort, Gaieana, the Earth Mother. She was presently examining her beauty in a golden hand mirror. Gaieana's great beauty was one of the reasons she was his Queen. With golden curls the color of the sun's rays and eyes as black as coal, she was the spouse every god desired to have hanging on his arm. However, she belonged to him. As of this moment in time, both he and his wife were extremely bored. Gods were immortal, but at times, this could be a curse. For human years, the exploits of humanity had kept the gods entertained. The constant wars and human destruction was enough to keep even the most uninterested immortal engaged. As of late, a relative peace had taken place among the humans, leaving nothing for the gods’ amusement. Yes, the sacrifices still came, but a sacrifice wasn't always exciting. Taranis needed a distraction. Anything was better than sitting upon his throne. Just then, one of his many sons came running down the Great Hall leading to the Throne Room. It was Maponis, the young fire god. Upon espying Maponis, Gaieana rolled her eyes. Maponis was Taranis' son with Rigana, the Goddess of the Lower Realm. Gaieana still had not forgiven him for his transgression with the beguiling goddess. She hated Maponis because he was the result of Taranis' affair. "Hello, Father. Hello Earth Mother," Maponis said bowing low before them. "Hello, my son," Taranis greeted. Gaieana pointedly ignored Maponis and continued examining herself in her mirror. Taranis disregarded his wife's hostility and instead focused on his young son. The boy was a miniature version of himself with the same coal black hair, cloudy blue eyes, and bronze coloring. "What can I do for you my son?" Taranis asked, ready to give his adorable son anything he desired. "I'm bored Father," Maponis complained. "So am I, Maponis. What do you suppose we do about that? Taranis inquired. For a while, Maponis stood in front of his father, cherub face screwed up in deep concentration. Then abruptly, his face lit up. "Ooh I know. Tell me a story." "A story. What kind of story?" Taranis probed, smiling at his now excited son. "Anything. You know everything," Maponis eagerly said. “Well, well, what can I tell you?" Taranis thought aloud rubbing has black bearded face. For a moment Taranis thought. What tale could he use to entertain his son? Presently the perfect story came to his mind. "What about the tale of the Namarians?" Taranis asked his son. "Who are the Namarians, Father?" Maponis curiously questioned. "They were a race of people whom the gods and I delivered long ago from persecution. Would you like to hear about them?" "Yes, Father, yes!” Maponis said, jumping up and clapping his hands excitedly. "Well my boy, come here and have a seat on my knee and I'll tell you all about it," Taranis said, picking his son up and placing him on his knee. As Maponis turned his bright eyes upon his father, Gaieana arose from her throne, sun golden curls bouncing. Her impenetrable black gaze bored a hole into her husband and his bastard son. There was no way she was going to sit on her throne and be forced to watch Taranis bonding with his and Rigana's brat. As regally as she could manage, she gathered her sky blue robes about her and made her way from the Throne Room. Taranis shook his head at his wife's departing back. He was really going to have to do something about her attitude towards Maponis and his other illegitimate children. He would deal with Gaieana later. Right now Maponis was sitting on his knee and gazing expectantly into his face. "Many eons ago before you were born... *****Chapter 1***** Deep on the outskirts of Titania lived the Namarian People. Since the beginning of time their race had walked in the ways of their gods. Since the birth of planet Antares, the Namarians had meandered over the lush, tropical paradise that was their home enjoying the bounties that Antares had to offer. A century after the planet’s formation the Namarians came upon another populace of people, the Titanians. To the Titanians, the Namarians were a tribe of exotically beautiful strangers with skin the color of fresh pecans and hair that captured the color of the sun’s rays, the blackness of Antares’ coal and the deep brown of the rich soil. The Namarians most dominating features were their blue and green eyes that seemed to gaze into one’s soul. The somewhat striking warrior like Titanians intrigued the Namarian People. Titanian men were bronze colored, dark towering muscled specimens and their women were small and lean. The two groups of Antarian inhabitants were fascinated with one another and they decided to build a home together. They called their massive walled city Tinama. In time a few marriages took place between the two ethnic groups for the Titanian men greatly desired the luscious other worldly beauty of the Namarian women. Both groups however maintained the cultural beliefs and practices that they had established before building Tinama. At the Namarian feast of Tanirom was believed to be the time when the gods revealed a bit of their magic. As their nation had done since the time of their ancestors, the Namarians slaughtered the best of their livestock in preparation for their most important ceremony. When the moon rose high in the night sky the Namarian priests and priestesses, the Vates and Vatesses, built a huge circular altar of stones and laid out the sacrifices of each clan. Using wood and flint the Vates and Vatesses burned the offerings of each clan brought. When golden hot flames rose all around the circular alter the High Vate went to the gods in entreaty. “Namarian gods and goddesses, tonight we come on this feast of Tanirom to show you honor and the depth of our belief. Tonight we know that you will smile upon your people and reveal great works to us. Namarian deities be praised.” As soon as the High Vate stopped speaking a strong wind came swirling and extinguished all of the hot billowing fire around the altar. A strong masculine voice spoke from the heavens, “I am Taranis, the Sky Father. I accept your offerings and tonight for your faithfulness you will be gifted with great knowledge. Use this gift well for you will need it. One day your descendants will rule this city, but beware of the Titanians my children. They will grow jealous of your gift and seek to drive you out from this place.” The voice stopped speaking and the swirling winds stopped. Suddenly a strange bright light surrounded the bodies of the Namarians for a few moments before it disappeared as suddenly as it came. The Namarians bowed low in disbelief and happiness. The Titanians that had been watching their neighbors’ ceremony felt hot anger rush in their veins and they went to spread the news they’d heard to their brethren as the Namarians feasted on the roasted livestock. When the Titanian men were all assembled they resolved to kill or drive out the strange Namarians. No Namarian would ever rule their city. As the Namarians were leaving the altar of their feast, the Titanian men came running with clubs to attack. When the Namarians saw the masks of hate on the Titanians faces they ran for their lives out of Tinama forever. When they believed they were safe they all remembered their High God’s prophecy: They will grow jealous of you and seek to drive you out from this place. It was just as Taranis had said. After the exile of the Namarians, a vision sent by Morgiana, Goddess of War was seen by one of the Namarians. In that Vision, Tamesis, an aged Namarian Vatess heard that the gods had observed the plight of her people and that just as Taranis had said their descendants would rule Tinama. A powerful sorcerer would be sent to them as a girl infant. The girl would grow up to oversee her people and use the powers the gods would bless her with. This sorcerer would be a powerful being, receiving her gifts from all of the Namarian deities. The child would be born when the planets aligned and a shooting star flew across the sky, under the sign of the Oak Tree. One born under the symbol of the Oak was predispositioned to be courageous, sensible, and a person of action. Tamesis had questioned her goddess as to how they could possibly know which child was the Namarian deliverer. Namarian hair and eye coloring came in such a wide variety. There had to be something to tell the child apart from all others. The War Goddess promised that the child would have a distinguishing lock of silver hair and an eye color that no other would have. The people were overjoyed that the gods were still with them. A celebration honoring the gods was immediately held and every pregnant Namarian woman hoped this eagerly awaited child was the one that she carried. Finally, nine months after Tamesis’ vision, the Namarian Sorceress was born. *******Chapter 2******* The Namarian people rejoiced and celebrated the much- awaited birth. The daughter born was named Astraea Andraste after the Namarian goddesses of Justice and Victory. Exactly as Morgiana had promised, Astraea was born with a lock of silver hair, very prominent against the dark luster of her ebony hair. Astraea was also born with another feature that all the Namarians were in awe of, golden eyes. Astraea’s parents, Trystan and Raelynna Mendeza sent up sacrifices to the gods and goddesses to thank them for their daughter. In the Namarian camp there was a huge celebration with much dancing and food. After the celebration the druids, vates, bards, the Vergobretus and Astraea’s parents came together to discuss her future. The Namarian Druids were wise men and women, proficient in herbal lore. The Vates were the priests and priestesses of the people and the bard men and women were singing poets and history storytellers. The Vergobretus was the Namarian Judge of the Law. After much discussion all agreed that it was important for Astraea to be trained by all those assembled until the powers of the gods manifested themselves in her. Because of their decision, Astraea spent the first five years of her life as a normal child. Only when Raelynna and Trystan finally told Astraea the responsibility she was to inherit, did she realize that she was different. Astraea vowed that she would be a leader that her people could be proud of. For the next thirteen years of her life, Astraea was taught the law, healing, divination, and the history of her people. When she reached her eighteenth year a strange thing happened. Her body became surrounded by an unearthly blue glow and strange fire began to emit from her hands. A masculine voice from the heavens called down to the awe struck Namarians, “Now she has our power. Go and use your gifts to do good deeds my child.” Immediately Astraea went out among her people healing sick and setting right any minor disputes among the people. Astraea lived an astounding one hundred and twenty five years making the Namarian populace grow. When Astraea’s life ended, there was much mourning and celebrations of her life. She was entombed in a casket of gold and vibrantly colored glass and placed on top of Clidona Hill, named after the Namarian goddess of the Underworld. The elders of the village took it upon themselves to keep the legend of Astraea and the future Namarian Sorceress alive. One every month all the village leaders called the people together and the bards recounted the tale for up and coming generations to learn and revere. The faithful people continued to bring flowers and sent prayers upon the hill to their gods, hoping that a new sorceress would be sent to them soon. Astraea had never married and thus had no heirs to be the new Namari Sorceress. Despite all, the Namarians were positive that in a short amount of time a new leader would arrive and lead them to reclaim Tinama, their former city. Alas the centuries passed without a leader in sight. In time, the centuries turned to millennia in which a long awaited birth brightened the lives of the people. ********Chapter 3******* A new sorceress was born to Trajan Ramiraz and his wife Aryanna, respected druids among the Namarians. The beautiful baby was named Tarana Imonis after the Namarian God of Thunder and the Goddess of the Upper Realm. Just as with the birth of the first sorceress, Astraea, there was much celebrations and thanksgiving to the gods and goddesses. Tarana was born with the signature lock of silver hair and surprisingly silver colored eyes. Up until the age of five years Tarana lived as a normal girl. When the time came for Tarana to begin her training the differences between her and the previous sorceress were duly noted. While Astraea had been eager to do what she could for her people, Tarana resented the burden that she was being forced to carry. It was only after much coaxing and pleading that she appeared to settle down and accept what was expected of her. Alas, it didn’t last. When she reached her eighteenth year, Tarana ran away to the now bustling city that the Namarians had left behind and no Namarian ever saw her again. Her parents were devastated by the shame that she brought to her people and they and all the Namarians acted as if Tarana never existed. There was one person among the Namarians that didn’t forget about Tarana. His name was Roridan Masserati, and he was a strapping warrior that had hoped to one day make Tarana his wife. Roridan was ten years older than Tarana and he had watched her grow up into a beautiful young woman. The fact that she was the Namari Sorceress was of no importance to him. She was not so far above him in station that she was unobtainable for a wife. Tarana’s desertion of her people was more than a subtle shock for Roridan. Though in the years that had passed since Tarana ran away he had married and sired children, Tarana still haunted his dreams. Defying the orders of the Masserati clan chieftain, Roridan journeyed to Tinama to learn of Tarana’s fate. He now learned that the city was no longer named Tinama but Titania. As he made his way around Titania, the people regarded him with something akin to suspicion. His dusky skin color and blonde hair were enough to identify him as a Namarian outsider. Understandably, at first, the people were hesitant to converse with Roridan. He had just about given up hope when an old beggar man took pity on him. “What do you wish to know my boy?” Roridan was considerably hesitant to talk to the old man. The man was dirty and crafty looking, but he had no choice. “Can ye tell me anything about a comely Namarian wench that came to Titania years ago? Roridan asked. “Were her eyes and a lock of her hair the color of the silver moon?” the old man asked. “Yes!” Roridan said excitedly, digging into his pocket and flicking a small gold nugget at the man. “Well come closer and ol’ Dallax will tell ye all I know,” the now named beggar said. Roridan eventually learned that upon reaching Titania, Tarana walked around taking in all the sights and sounds of Titania’s marketplace. A man emerging from a nearby brothel noticed Tarana. Her bizarre beauty had captured the attention of the king’s harem master, Tanicius. He called soldiers of the king that were standing nearby to help him capture the girl. She was an exotic young morsel that his king would no doubt love, as an addition to his ever-growing harem. Although she had protested and pleaded, against her will Tarana had been taken to the harem of King Mercurius Gonovan, Titania’s leader. Tarana tried to explain to the king that she was a Namari sorceress, but she must be left a virgin to use her powers. Mercurius found her tale amusing and even gave her the opportunity to show him her powers, but alas she could not. It seemed as if the gods had forsaken her. Her ethereal beauty was too much for a man to resist, and ignoring Tarana’s pleas of mercy, Mercurius forced her and she became with child. Over the years Tarana bore Mercurius seven children, four daughters and three sons. Tarana named their daughters, Germaine Antonya, Tori Ashtarah, Rania Amaris, and Morrigan Jenii. And although Mercurius had many concubines and wives, Tarana was one of his favorites. As a result, he named their sons, an honor in itself. Mercurius named their sons, Talmai Germanicus, Jahdai Antonius, and Teynan Adranos. Mercurius also vowed to Tarana that while their sons would not inherit the kingship, their daughters would marry well and their sons would have places within the kingdom. Kings did not pay special attention to their concubines or even acknowledge the illegitimate children that they had with them. This was a great honor to a mere concubine and a foreign one at that, but it meant nothing to Tarana. Through all the years that she had been Mercurius’ concubine she had never forgiven him for taking her against her will. Bitter over her lot in life, Tarana waited years for her chance at revenge. One night when Mercurius came to lie with her, she was ready to exact her revenge. Drawing a dagger from beneath her pillow, Tarana tried to kill the king. Her attempt was unsuccessful and she was promptly sentenced to death by beheading. Despite Tarana’s treachery, Mercurius would keep the promise that he’d made to her regarding their offspring. After learning of Tarana’s fate, Roridan made his way back to the Namari camp and told his people all that he’d learned. No one was the least bit surprised that Tarana had come to such an end. There was no future for those who disobeyed the will of the gods. Tarana’s death was a bitter reminder to the Namarians of the danger that Titania posed to them all. Therefore it was with heavy hears that they waited for another leader to be born and lead them to victory over the Titanians, but sadly another thousand years passed by. *******Chapter 4******* Now the Namarians were at the end of their millennium wait. Tonight all of the people were gathered to honor the first sorceress and discover when the new Namari leader would be born. Every pregnant woman in the sprawling village was waiting to be addressed by the Namari vates, priests and priestesses in direct communication with the gods. The druids would be assisting the vates, and the bards would be singing hymns of praises honoring the Namari deities and the first Namari leader, Astraea Andraste. All of the pregnant Namari women hoped that the child she carried would be the long awaited Namari sorcerer. Before the expectant mothers could be addressed, the High Vatess Dhisanaa arose to address the gods and goddesses. “Oh Namari gods and goddesses, protectors of our people, tonight we assemble to learn which of these expectant mothers is carrying our deliverer. The birth of this child has always been a surprise to all the generations before us. Tonight gods and goddesses we ask that that through signs you reveal to us from whom the babe will come.” After the prayer of the High Vatess, the pregnant women were gathered in a circle. The Head Druidess Sequanna came out of a tent with a pipe and herbs. The other druids carrying various feathers, shells, and stones followed behind her. All of these objects would be used in the process of discovering the mother of the long awaited child. The other items were laid on the altar as Sequanna crushed the herbs she had and placed them into the pipe. As Sequanna made a move to go into the circle, the sky overhead darkened to an impenetrable black and thunder began clapping loudly as lightning streamed across the sky. Presently a voice began to speak from the heavens. “Do not be afraid my people. It is I, the Sky Father, Taranis the Thunderer. I have heard your plea and tonight the child’s mother will be revealed to you all through lot casting. Blindfold the women and put each of the items in a pouch. Each mother will be blindfolded and forced to choose the right feather, shell, and stone and then they will smoke the pipe.” “How will we know what is right, oh Sky Father?’ Dhisanaa asked braver than she felt. It was not everyday that the king of the gods audibly spoke to his followers. “The women that chose a blue feather, a sand dollar, and a quartz crystal will smoke the pipe. The woman who sees the signs of a fish, hare, horse, bird, serpent, and dragon in the smoke is carrying the babe. In a short time the answer to your question will be revealed,” Taranis prophesied, as the lightning and thunder stopped just as quickly as it began. All the people notably exhaled a breath. “Thank you Sky Father,” the High Vatess said bowing low to the ground. “We will do exactly as Taranis has said,” Sequanna said as she bagged the items like the god commanded. Once the items were bagged, Sequanna and Dhisanaa pulled strips of clothe from their robes and handed them to the other druids and vates, instructing them to blindfold the pregnant women. The High Druid and Vatess approached the first woman approached the first woman and told her to select a feather. The woman reached into the bag and withdrew a white feather. “You are not carrying the child. You have chosen a white feather, the sign of purification and spirituality.” The woman was unblindfolded and removed from the circle and the feather was placed back into the bag. Dhisanaa and Sequanna moved on to the next woman. She withdrew a green feather, a sign of fertility and riches. The next woman drew a brown feather, signifying health and stability. The two leaders of the ceremony continued. An orange feather was chosen symbolizing success and attraction. Then yellow for an intelligent child. Red for a courageous child. Pink for a child that would know real love. Then finally, many women drew the elusive blue in a streak of succession. A blue feather stood for psychic awareness, a sure sign of a sorceress’ power. The bag containing the feathers was taken away and the pouch containing the shells was brought forward. First an oyster was chosen promising good fortune. Then, a tooth shell, a sign of coming wealth. Next, an olive shell hinting at healing capability. A scallop was chosen as a sign of travel and movement. At last the sand dollar, a sign of wisdom was chosen. To lead her people in reclaiming Titania, the Namari Sorceress would need to be wise in her decision making. The final vessel filled with stones was brought forward for the women to make their final selections. Now only about fifteen blindfolded women remained and while the process was taking some time, the onlookers waited with bated breath. Five women chose the aquamire stone, a sign of purification. One woman chose an amethyst denoting a happy child. Another woman chose a calcite stone, promising a spiritual child. In the end the last eight women selected the quartz crystal, a sign of protection from the gods. The remaining eight women were now unblindfolded. Whatever appeared in the smoke, the expectant mothers would have the right to see. Dhisanaa took the pipe in her hand and walked toward the first woman in the line of waiting women. The woman took the pipe inhaling the smoke before blowing it out. The crowd waited breathlessly as the blue smoke swirled in the air. Presently all could see the form of a boar. “Your child will be a courageous and strong warrior just as the boar,” Dhisanaa informed the mother. The young woman released a sigh of relief at the news. Dhisanaa smiled and moved to the next woman. The woman eagerly accepted the pipe and blew the blue smoke that formed a hare. “Your child will know good fortune in his or her lifetime.” The happy mother smiled and lifted her hands in thanks to the gods. Dhisanaa moved to the next woman in the line and became struck by her beauty. While all Namari women were beautiful, the features of this woman were breathtaking. Her hair was golden like the sun’s rays and her eyes were the color of lilacs. The young woman’s face radiated a child’s innocence. As Dhisanaa handed the young woman the pipe, she wondered what the smoke would reveal. The beautiful girl inhaled and exhaled the torrent smoke. Everyone could see a fish and Dhisanaa was just about to speak, when a strange thing happened. The fish remained, but a dragon, a horse, a bird, and a serpent appeared alongside the fish. The crowd released a breath, waiting to see what would happen next. As soon as Dhisanaa saw the smoke, she knew that this young girl was carrying The Namarian Child. Dhisanaa breathed a sigh of relief. Well, at last the people had an answer to their question. No more would they have to wait and wonder. The gods were to be praised. *****Chapter 5***** Trying not to betray any of the emotions that she felt, Dhisanaa kept her eyes locked on the young woman in front of her. “The fish symbolizes clairvoyance. The serpent is a sign of divine wisdom. The bird is a sign of prophesy. The horse represents sovereignty. The sign of the dragon represents the guardian spirit. You are carrying the Namari Savior,” Dhisanaa informed the girl and the crowd. Immediately a cheer of rejoicing went up from those assembled. Smiling herself, Dhisanaa turned her attention away from the rambunctious crowd. She raised her arms as a signal of silence, before she turned her attention back to the young mother. “How old are you my dear?” Dhisanaa questioned her softly. “I have seen seventeen seasons High Vatess,” the young woman answered respectfully. “What is your name young lady?” Dhisanaa interrogated. “I am Syrene Rowena, formerly of the clan of Romero, now of the Serrano clan.” “And is this the first child for you and your husband?” Dhisanaa prodded. Sequanna, who had been standing with the other druids a distance away, came forward and stood next to Dhisanaa. Being a scholar of Namari History, the clan names of Romero and Serrano were familiar to her. Before Syrene could answer the High Vatess’ question, a male voice answered for her. “Yes it is, High Vatess.” Presently the man to whom the voice belonged made his way through he crowd and to his wife’s side where he slid his arm about Syrene’s very pregnant waist. “What is your name, blessed father to be?” Dhisanaa asked, turning her attention to the handsome man beside Syrene. “I am Jago Javan Serrano, High Vatess and I have seen thirty seasons.” Dhisanaa was not the least bit surprised by Jago’s age. The common Namari custom was for an older man to marry a teenage girl and sire many children. Jago was as striking as his young wife was. His hair was a curly brown nest and his eyes were the color of sea green. From the adoring way that Syrene gazed at her husband, it was evident that she was content being a youthful bride. Jago’s arm about his wife’s waist spoke volumes about the possessiveness he felt for her. Turning her attention back to the now beaming Syrene, Dhisanaa asked, “How far along are you in your pregnancy?” “About eight full moons,” Syrene answered rubbing her large belly. As Sequanna listened to the conversation between Dhisanaa and the Serranos, her mind took a trip through the Namari history. Now it was so clear why the surnames Serrano and Romero sounded so familiar to her. “The clans of Serrano and Romero are cousins to the clans of Ramiraz and Mendeza, the clans of the first two Romelans, Astraea Andraste and the deserter Tarana Imonis. It is no surprise that through your clans the child will come. The blood that runs through your veins is ancient and sacred,” Sequanna informed the Serrano and the Namari assembly. Jago looked down at his young wife and smiled, moving his hand to Syrene’s very pregnant stomach. “Your child will be born under the sign of the Alder Tree. Your daughter will be courageous as a warrior, sincere, honest, and able to command the powers of the mysterious that we have yet to understand. Finding a mate that is worthy of her will be difficult for your daughter, but if that is truly what she desires, then it can be done. Born under the sign of was Morgiana will be her patron goddess,” Dhisanaa informed the Serranos and the Namari congregation. “We are very much blessed by the gods,” Jago acknowledged. “Yes you are. The whole Namarian Nation is blessed. Come, let us kneel and pray to the gods and goddesses in thanks,” Dhisanaa ordered. Jago and Syrene were presently surrounded by the Namari Vates, Druids, Bards, and the Vergobretus. Jago carefully helped his very pregnant wife to her knees, before kneeling down beside her. Dhisanaa lead her druid brothers and sisters in prayer. “We thank you gods and goddesses. Everything is just as you said it would be Sky Father. Your people give thanks for the deliverance that you are sending to us. For time immeasureable, you have watched over your people and you continue to do so. We ask that you bless the parents of this child. Give Jago and Syrene the wisdom to nurture and raise this child as you would have them do. Let the name of this daughter live on in our history. Please bless your vates, gods and goddesses. Stay in contact with us so that we know how to lead and direct this child when the time will come. Please also bless the Vergobretus, the druids and the bards. Keep your people safe and strong. Let us not make the same mistakes of our forefathers,” Dhisanaa beseeched, ending her prayer. The circle of people rose and Jago gingerly helped his wife to her feet before he spoke, “We will not disappoint the gods or our people. We are awed by the responsibility given to us and we will do everything in our power for the good of this child.” Syrene nodded her head in confirmation of her husband’s words. “We will hold a ceremony when your daughter is born where we will beseech each god and goddess to lay a special blessing on the child. Now we will have a song from our bards,” Dhisanaa said, motioning with her hands for the young men and women to come forward. Presently the sounds of flute and lyre could be heard as the bards began to sing: Our gods breathed life into us and sent us to explore this paradise Where we’d spend all our lives The Titanians and we came together But alas nothing lasts forever They became jealous of the gifts and prophecy of our deity And vowed they’d never serve us humbly The depth of their hate was unearthed And so came destruction’s birth They ran us away To the place where we are today But the gods heard our cry and sent a message to us Do not worry for in nine months A child will arrive that can heal your wounds And bring prosperity to you As long as she lives, she has our power Until her last hour Astraea Andraste Ramiraz The first and the best She brought joy to our people and loved us all Death was her only downfall She served her people well Put others needs above herself The good of her people was her only concern For her presence we still yearn On top of Clidona Hill she sets A part of the world after this Now we wait for child number three Looked forward to by all you see Only a month remains Until the Sorceress is among us to heal our pain When the bards finished their song, the people clapped loudly. After receiving their adulation, the bards moved to rejoin the crowd and Dhisanaa came forward to address the crowd one last time. “Thank you bards for your lovely tale. This night has given much joy to all of us. You may all return to your homes.” The crowd began to disperse. All were excited about the turn of events that had taken place that evening. None noticed the two men hiding in the forest that surrounded their home. *******Chapter 6******** The two unseen spectators gave each other a silent nod and quietly began their retreat away from the Namari settlement. They made their way to the stallions that they had hidden nearby and mounted, galloping back to Titania. Both were wondering how the information that they’d learned tonight would benefit them. They had been sent to spy on the Namari camp by their king who was familiar with the prophecy that a powerful sorceress would be born to the people. The two emissaries wondered what their king would do when they made their report. They wouldn’t have to wait much longer as they were now approaching home, the bustling city of Titania. Their leader King Romulus Juventius was no doubt eagerly awaiting their return. Antares was a planet full of other kingdoms and civilizations of people. Titania’s closest neighboring city, Madaenaz was built with stunning architecture. King Taarik of Madaenaz and King Romulus had often traded between their two kingdoms. Antares was a wondrous paradise, but it was not without its problems. Death and war were a way of life. Kingdoms fought one another in the hopes of becoming the Supreme Ruler of Antares. Marcus, and Arion, the two infiltrators, figured that this Antarian rulership business was why King Romulus was so interested in the exiled Namarians. Now they would know what the King’s motives were as they moved down the palace corridors toward the Throne Room. They found their king playing with his son and heir, five year old Tyranius Maximus, affectionately called Tarin by his father. Seeing his operatives returning, Romulus scooped up his son and handed him to his caretaker, Julisicaa, who led Tarin by his hand from the room. Smiling fondly at his departing son, Romulus moved to sit on his throne. He was an imposing figure to anyone. A little over seven feet tall with raven black hair and finely chiseled features, Romulus struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. His fierceness in battle was legendary on Antares. Relaxing on his throne, Romulus addressed Marcus first, “Lieutenant Marcus, what have you learned about the Namarians?” the king probed. “My lord tonight the heavens opened up and the leader of their heathen gods spoke to them telling them how they could find out which woman is carrying the child. The child is coming in a month’s time.” “And you Colonel Arion?” the King asked. “Well sire I think you may be very interested in the Namari wenches. They are comely and would no doubt make lovely additions to your harem. The wench that is pregnant with the child is the most beautiful of them all. Her name is Syrene and her hair is the golden color of the sun’s rays and her eyes are like amethyst jewels,” Arion described in appreciation. “The wench sounds comely enough. How old is she?’ King Romulus asked. “Seventeen your grace and this is her first child. When the babe is born the Namarians plan to have another pagan ceremony to ask the gods to bless the child,” Marcus said rejoining the conversation. “So this would be the perfect opportunity to catch the Namarians at their most vulnerable,” the king vocalized his thought. “Yes my lord,” Arion said with military plans already running through his head. “Take some of the men and have them monitor the movements in the Namari camp until the child is born. During the celebration take a force of men and attack the camp. I want the Namarians brought alive. Bring the child and the woman to me,” Romulus ordered. “My lord,” Arion probed, “What exactly do you plan to do with all of these people? The sheer numbers of them is staggering. And what about the mother and child?” “Wise questions Colonel Arion,” Romulus conceded, “Some of the wenches will be placed in brothels throughout Titania. Some of the soldiers will be gifted with Namari wenches, including you and Lieutenant Marcus if you choose. The most fetching damsels will join my harem and the others will become captives and palace servants. The Namari men will also be captives or they can serve as a special unit in my army. If they refuse to yield then they will be executed. If the wench Syrene is as beautiful as you say then she will be my favorite Namarian whore. The child will be the weapon that grants Titania supreme rulership over all of Antares.” “A wise and spectacular plan, your grace,” Colonel Arion admitted. “Yes it is gentlemen. Now go. Plans must be made for this brilliant scheme to occur.” “Yes my liege,” Arion and Marcus said bowing low before leaving. As Romulus sat alone in the Throne Room he thought about some of the finer points of the plan that he’d neglected. Where would he put the exiles once they were captured? Obviously a settlement would have to be built for them. Maybe a walled city within Titania with armed sentinels. A more prudent question was should he keep the Namarian dignitaries alive? Tradition dictated that they were the ones who oversaw the training of the gifted child. He would spare them if they agreed to cooperate. If not they too would be executed. He wondered if when the girl was older, she could be added to his harem. The idea of having a mother and daughter had merit. His lieutenant and colonel could not fathom how important the girl child was to securing Titania’s future. King Romulus exited the Throne Room and made his way to the Great Hall. The room contained a gold plated tree that traced the kings of Titania all the way back to the first ruler. Having the Namari wench as his sorceress would be bringing back a piece of his past that few knew about. Romulus could trace his ancestry to the first king of Titania in the second millennium, Mercurius Gonovan. He knew his history like he knew his name. Mercurius had a Namari concubine Tarana Imonis that bore him seven children. Tarana had been a Namari runaway who was captured by the king’s harem master and taken to the king. Tarana was said to have been the Namari Sorceress. After Mercurius had taken her maidenhead she had never been able to use her powers. He wondered if history would repeat itself if he deflowered the Namari girl at a later time. Mercurius and Tarana’s middle son Jahdai Antonius was to whom he could trace his lineage. Jahdai had been a commander in his father’s military and had married into a noble family siring many children. Romulus had ancient Namari blood flowing through his veins, not to mention his son Tarin. Tarin’s mother, his dear departed wife, Alexia Asheva had died in labor with their second child, a stillborn little girl he’d named Davina Marcella and she was another descendant of King Mercurius and Tarana. Alexia’s family had traced their lineage to Mercurius and Tarana’s third daughter, Rania Amaris who had married one of her father’s generals. Rania had given her husband two sons and a daughter before dying in childbirth. Tarin had ancient Namarian blood in his veins from both parents and didn’t even know it. Exhaling a breath, Romulus made his way from the Great Hall and went in search of his son. Tarin was the reason for all the plans that he was forming. He wanted a secure future for his son in which Tarin was the undisputed Sovereign Lord of Antares. Tarin and the Sorceress were the keys to fulfilling the prophecy and Romulus intended to see that it came about. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t around to see his dreams bear fruit. Some things in life came with a price, and Romulus would pay whatever price there was so that his son was King of the World. *******Chapter 7******** That night as they lay in bed, Jago held Syrene close. “My love do you believe the enormity of all that has happened this night?” he asked somewhat reverently. “Nay my husband. It is hard to believe that I, a simple Namari wench am carrying the hope of our salvation in my womb,” Syrene whispered. “You were never a simple Namari wench,” Jago teased her. Syrene’s dazzling smile nearly undid him. Instead Jago tilted his wife’s chin up and kissed her, as his other hand slid to caress her breast. How he had missed making love to her since the latter stages of her pregnancy. Syrene’s passionate nature assured him that there would be many more children for them to create. Reluctantly he stopped his fondling and moved his hand to her rounded stomach. “In a month’s time, my love, our daughter will be born. A daughter that will be able to do so much for our people. Nevertheless, I fear for you my love. Childbirth can be such a dangerous ordeal,” Jago said to his wife. “Don’t worry my husband. I will be fine. The gods will protect the vessels of their chosen one,” Syrene reassured him. “I could not bear to live my life without you wench,” Jago admitted. “You shall not have to,” Syrene promised, “Now get some rest.” As Syrene snuggled back against him and drifted off to sleep, Jago swore by the gods that nothing would separate him from the women he loved. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After his meeting with his colonel and lieutenant, King Romulus made his way to the nursery that was Tarin’s domain. He found Tarin asleep in his little bed, a dreamlike smile on his face. His young nursemaid Julisicaa was asleep in the bed that she kept in Tarin’s room. His heir had been Julisicaa’s charge ever since the boy’s mother had died. She loved Tarin as if he were her own son. Romulus walked deeper into the room until he stood looming over the sleeping nursemaid. She really was a beautiful girl. How he hadn’t noticed it before was a mystery. As he stared down at the sleeping girl his lower body jerked. The urge to possess her raven haired brown eyed beauty was too much too resist. Nevertheless, he would not be rough with the girl for he knew that she was still a maiden. He knew that such strict qualifications for a nursemaid would one day come in handy. Julisicaa would not dare refuse the king. She had no choice in the matter, except to give him what he wanted. He was going to destroy her chances of a proper marriage between herself and another Titanian noble. Her father, Dominus might not show his anger at the king for defiling his youngest daughter, but the anger would be there, hidden below the surface. All Titanian men understood that everything they had belonged to the king, including their daughters Dominus had no need to fear. He would receive proper compensation for his daughter’s precious gift. Romulus bent as low as his seven foot frame would allow and kissed Julisicaa’s pink lips. The girl immediately awakened and gave a gasp of shock. “Don’t be afraid Julisicaa,” Romulus whispered as he saw the fear in her doe eyes. For a moment, she was quiet. Romulus took that as a sign that she was in compliance with whatever he desired. However, when he touched her breast through the gown she was wearing she tried to move away from him. Restraining himself as much as he could, he gently told her, “Your king desires your company tonight.” Dawning of what he wanted seemed to register in Julisicaa’s eyes as she softly said, “It is as my king desires.” Dominus had trained his daughter well in obedience. Yes, he would slake his sudden thirst for the girl, but not here in his son’s room. Picking the resigned girl up in his arms, he strode from Tarin’s room. He was as eager as a rutting bull. Julisicaa would soon learn why he was known as Romulus the Mighty. ********Chapter 8******** The Namarian camp was in a frenzy. Syrene Serrano was preparing to bring the Sorceress into the world. Many of the Namari midwives were on hand to assist in the labor. While it was common custom for Namari men not to be anywhere in the vicinity of the birthing tent, Jago refused to leave his wife’s side. The High Vatess, Dhisanaa was in the birthing tent, praying for the safety of the child and its mother. Syrene’s mother, Careaya, was at Syrene’s bedside to comfort her daughter in her first childbearing. Finally the contractions began to come closer and closer together. “It’s time,” Syrene said alerting the people by her bedside. Jago knelt by his wife and gripped her hand in his, lending his strength. The midwives gathered clean cloths and warm water. “Child, push with the contractions and breathe deeply. You will be alright. This is simply the way of nature,” Careaya told her daughter. Syrene nodded her head in understanding as sweat beaded on her brow, but there was a look of fear in her amethyst eyes. The contractions were hitting her body hard. Using all of her strength, she pushed. Her body felt like it was being ripped apart by invisible forces. As she continued to push, the midwives at the end of the bed coached her with words of encouragement. “You’re doing well child. Just a few more hard pushes.” Although her forehead was now drenched in sweat and tears of frustration ran down her face, Syrene took heart to their words. Tightening her grip on Jago’s hand, she smiled at him as she gathered new strength to bring their daughter into the world. Syrene continued to push, once, twice, three times and finally she heard the lusty cry of a healthy baby. She laid back and exhaled a breath. She had done it. She had given birth to Jago’s child. The babe was finally here. All of a sudden, Syrene’s body was wracked with more spasms of pain and she let forth a piercing scream. “What’s wrong my love?” Jago asked alarmed at his wife’s scream. Syrene could not answer as another sharp pain went through her body. Not knowing what was the matter, Syrene did the only thing she could, she pushed with all her might. In two more pushes another baby slid into the hands of the waiting Careaya. “Blessed be you daughter. You have a handsome baby boy.” Syrene smiled weakly as her body surrendered to the deep slumber that was beckoning. As Jago mopped his wife’s brow with a cool cloth, he noticed that she had closed her eyes and he became alarmed. The midwives reassured him that Syrene was only resting. Jago smiled and visibly relaxed as his mother-in-law walked towards him holding two wrapped bundles in her arms. “Come and hold your children,” Careaya said as she stopped in front of him. Jago arose from his wife’s bedside and took the two babes in his arms. Pulling the blanket away from the first infant’s face, he looked at his child. He looked into the face of his son. The little boy had his mother’s golden hair and the sea green eyes of his father that were already open. Syrene had given him more than he could ever have imagined. His son was perfect. Smiling fondly he pulled the blanket away from his daughter’s face. Her amethyst eyes were wide open and staring at him intently. One thing surprised him though. His daughter’s hair was a vibrant red in color, a color that was not present in the Namari gene pool. His daughter also had a silver lock next to her golden one. Silently Jago thanked the gods. His children were the greatest gifts on all of Antares. “Come,” Dhisanaa commanded, “Let us show the people how you have been twice blessed as your wife recuperates.” Jago followed Dhisanaa out of the large birthing tent. People surrounded the tent and let out a cheer when they saw the High Vatess and Jago emerge. Jago smiled and basked in the happiness that the people felt. Dhisanaa raised her arms signaling for silence and the people obeyed her. “The Sorceress is here. After a thousand years the circle of life has continued. We are blessed to live in the generation in which the promised one has been born. The clans of Romero and Serrano are honored this day. In a week’s time, the consecration ceremony and festival to the gods will take place. Behold your Namari sorceress!” Dhisanaa shouted taking the infant girl from her father’s arms and raising her high above the people. The Namari camp, filled with cries of joy and relief had no idea that unseen spectators watched them. ********************************************** Lieutenant Marcus and Colonel Arion snuck away from the Namari camp, deeper into the surrounding forest. Waiting at their makeshift tent were four soldiers that had left Titania with them. “Men in seven days time, the pagans will hold a ceremony to praise their gods and the newborn girl. On that night we will attack. The wench and her children are to be brought to the king alive and unharmed. I and two of you will immediately return to Titania and inform the king of these events. Move out men,” Marcus commanded. Arion and the other two soldiers would stay there and continue to watch the camp. In a short while, all of their time in this uncomfortable place would pay off because King Romulus would have the Namari wench Syrene, her precious daughter, and a new nation of people under his control. **********Chapter 9********** The time was at hand. Romulus could taste the sweet smell of victory that came with every battle that was assured of being won. There was no doubt in his mind that his soldiers would subdue the unprepared Namarians. Everything was ready for them in their new Titanian home. Carpenters, blacksmiths and all other skilled workmen had managed to carve out a tiny town surrounding the palace that was to be home to the Namarians. The small walled city would be patrolled by Titanian soldiers at all times. Any Namarian that tried to escape would be shot down with arrows. He hadn’t decided what to call the new town yet. Not that it was that important to him anyway. More than likely he’d only visit at the onset to assert his rulership over the prisoners. After all the Namarians that he was most interested in were the women; most of whom would live inside the palace in his newly enlarged harem. Of course his beautiful concubines hadn’t been delighted that he was adding strange outsiders to their numbers, but they had no choice. It was as the king commanded. As for the precious Namari child, she would have her own suite of rooms across from Tarin’s. The thought of all that building he’d done brought a smile to his face. Tarin would soon be sharing his room with whatever child the gods blessed Julisicaa with. The poor girl had been petrified when she realized she was expecting. She didn’t even want to have the child until she and her father, Dominus Vesux had a chat with him. Dominus hadn’t even tried to hide his anger as he’d ranted at Romulus for impregnating his daughter. Julisicaa hadn’t said anything. She’d just huddled in a corner of the room trying to hold back tears. Romulus had finally put an end to Dominus’ ranting by proposing marriage to Julisicaa. For a moment Dominus was shocked into silence before accepting the offer. What nobleman wouldn’t love for the king to be married to his daughter? Of course this wasn’t a love match. Romulus hadn’t loved any woman since the beguiling Alexia who’d been his first and only wife. This marriage proved that he did care enough about Julisicaa to do the right thing. After all, Julisicaa was a sweet girl who’d always cared for Tarin. Yes, marriage was honorable, but Julisicaa knew where she stood. The king was wedding her only to spare her any humiliation. She knew he didn’t love her and that he would continue to enjoy the services of the women in his harem. Her tasks were to continue to care for Tarin and their new child as soon as it was born. Romulus had everything in place. Tonight he and Julisicaa would wed in Titania and further away the Namarians would be conquered. He would soon be stretched then between his pregnant bride and returning soldiers. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jago Javan Serrano couldn’t have been a happier man. He had everything he could ever desire, a beautiful wife and two healthy children. The gods had smiled upon him and for that he was grateful. He and his suddenly very important family were on their way to the assembly. In a few short moments the Consecration Ceremony would begin. His twin son and daughter would receive their names, as his daughter would be consecrated to the gods as the long awaited Namari Sorceress. It was a lot for a new father to get used to but he could manage. As he held his son in his arms, he glanced at his wife holding their daughter. Syrene had recovered nicely from her pregnancy. Her face glowed radiantly with the happy glow of motherhood. Jago turned his attention back to their son. Carefully he uncovered the flaxen haired babe and was surprised to see tiny sea green eyes wide open and studying him. This son of his would be an inquisitive one. Before he could ask Syrene if their daughter was awake, they had reached the tent that was sat up for the ceremony. Upon espying the couple approaching a hush fell over the crowd. The High Vatess Dhisanaa and High Druidess Sequanna came forward. “May the gods bless us all this night,” Dhisanaa said. The crowd cheered in response until Dhisanaa motioned for silence. She stepped forward to take the baby boy from Jago’s arms. Carefully she uncovered his head and lifted him high in the air, turning around in a circle for all the Namarians to see. “What is this child’s name?” the Vatess asked the parents. “Ronan Jase Serrano,” Syrene answered her voice ringing out clearly. “A fine Namarian name. Come and let us go to the gods on his behalf,” Dhisanaa said, “Great gods and goddesses guide this boy in the path that he is to take in life. Give him the courage to be a pillar of strength to his people. Bless him to have a long and prosperous life.” Taking a flask of water Dhisanaa poured three drops on the baby’s head. “Ronan Jase Serrano I welcome thee into the Namarian nation,” Dhisanaa spoke before handing Ronan back to his father. Ronan hadn’t uttered a cry. Dhisanaa stopped in front of Syrene and held out her arms for the baby girl. Again she uncovered the child and lifted the baby in the air for all to see. “And what blessed name have you chosen for the sorceress?” Dhisanaa asked. “We name her Damara Aerian Syrene Serrano,” Jago answered in a strong proud voice. “In honor of the Namarian goddesses of fertility, the moon and the child’s mother. An excellent and worthy name for such an important child,” High Vatess Dhisanaa said taking the child from her father. The High Druidess Sequanna took the flask of water and poured three drops on Damara’s tiny head. “We must beseech the pantheon on the sorceress’ behalf,” Dhisanaa said laying the infant girl on a table in front of the crowd. “Great Pantheon, we come before you in thanksgiving and to ask blessings for this child of the gods. Taranis, Sky Father, Great Thunderer, King of the Gods give this child the power of the skies. Channel your energy through her. Gaieana, Earth Mother, Queen of the Gods, grant this child your mastery over the earth. Nepitonos and Nehalennia, God and Goddess of the Seas, give Damara your control over the waters of Antares. Teutates and Morgiana, God and Goddess of War, when the time comes for her to fight, give her the strength and courage to lead in battle. Nadiz and Damona, God and Goddess of Healing, let this child be able to heal all those that will need her help. And Davistan, God of Eloquence and Knowledge, give this babe your gift of learning. Bless her gods and goddesses. Keep her safe and let your divine will be done,” Dhisanaa said ending her prayer. Sequanna was just about to move the baby from the table when a strange thing happened. The heavens opened up and a strange luminous light ball came down. The Namarians watched in awe as the ball of light made its way toward the baby sorceress. At once Damara was covered by the amazing light and she began to shimmer. In a matter of moments the light dissipated. Sounds of wonderment came out of all those gathered. “Clearly the prayers for this child have been answered. Come and all may come forward to pay homage to our much awaited leader,” Dhisanaa said handing the infant girl back to her mother. “Come, come people. Single file and in an orderly manner,” Sequanna said directing the people. Syrene felt overwhelmed by all of her people who were so eager to pay reverence to her daughter. She unwrapped Damara and stared into her wide open amethyst eyes so much like her own. The baby rewarded her with a smile. Love clutched her breast. Despite the enormity of her child’s birth and all the pomp and circumstance, she still held an innocent life in her arms. The Namarian Sorceress needed to be loved and taken care of just like any other newborn. The thought brought a smile to her face and a feeling of calm washed over her. She looked up and saw Jago standing a ways away from her conversing with the other druids and vates. Ronan squirmed in the arms of his father. Jago seemed to feel her eyes on him and he looked up across the distance at her mouthing, “I love you.” She mouthed the words back to him and turned to face the first family slowly making their way forward to meet baby Damara. Syrene smiled as they approached, when out of the surrounding forest armed men appeared fanning out in all directions. The Namarians were trapped by menacing looking soldiers that could only have come from one place, Titania. “Surrender and you will not be harmed. Attempt to resist and you will be killed,” one of the militia members said. Syrene was terrified. She did the first thing that sprang to her mind. She ran for dear life clutching Damara to her chest. “Capture the Sorceress and her mother,” one of the mercenaries yelled. Upon hearing the invaders intentions, the Namari men forgot their fear and rushed the soldiers. No one was going to kidnap their sorceress and her mother. They would fight to their deaths to protect them. Apparently the Titanian men had expected as much and they immediately drew their swords to cut down the Namarian men. Jago gave his son to a nearby druid and joined in the fray. He had to protect his wife and children, even if it cost him his life. As Syrene ran she was instantaneously surrounded by five armed Titanians, seized by the waist and stripped of her child. “No, please,” she cried as the one holding her started to grope her breasts and thrust his hand beneath her skirts. Although she was being assaulted, Syrene was relieved to find that no one was trying to hurt her daughter. Where were Jago and Ronan? “Ronan! Jago! Where are you?” she screamed, trying to be heard over the noise of the battlefield. Out of nowhere Jago appeared running towards her. “Syrene he yelled. Jago never made it to her side. A soldier rushed him from behind and ran him through with a sword. “Jago!” Syrene screamed in horror as he went down. His blood covered the ground and Syrene struggled against her captor to go to her dying husband. Jago looked up at her with glossy green eyes. “I love you always Syrene,” Jago croaked and breathed his last. The sight of her beloved lying dead stole any strength Syrene had left. Her whole world was destroyed and in despair she succumbed to the darkness threatening to overwhelm her. What would become of her, her children, and her people? Where were the gods when she needed them? ~~~~~~~~~~Chapter 10~~~~~~~~~~ A knock on the door of his bedchambers roused Romulus from his light slumber beside his pregnant wife. The poor girl had to be exhausted. He’d rode her mercilessly upon returning from their wedding and subsequent marriage feast. Tonight had only proven with a certainty that he would have to continue to avail himself of the pleasures of his harem. Julisicaa was too delicate of a girl to handle his rough demands in the marriage bed. She and the baby would have their own set of rooms. And when he summoned her she’d come to him and perform her wifely duties. Easing himself out of bed, Romulus donned a pair of breeches, boots, and a vest before opening the heavy chamber doors to find Colonel Arion and Lieutenant Marcus standing on the other side. Their presence could only mean one thing…..success. “My Lord, we have apprehended the Namarians. The soldiers are settling them into the city. We presumed that you would want to wait until the morrow to assert your leadership over the captives,” Lieutenant Marcus said. “Excellent work gentlemen. And the girl child and her mother?” the King probed. “Awaiting you in the Throne Room,” Colonel Arion answered the king. Romulus didn’t wait for another word. He barreled past the military leaders making his way to the Throne Room. When Romulus saw her his breath hitched in his throat. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her long straight hair seemed to have captured all of the sun’s rays. Her skin was the color of a dusky peach. Her eyes were a dark stormy purple and her lips had a sultry lift that begged a man to kiss them. Regretfully he noticed that she was wearing one of those long Namari dresses that failed to even show a hint of the body hidden underneath. In time he would rid her of those unimaginative garments. She held her head up proudly and clutched her child to her as the soldiers guarding her made lewd comments. Despite all that this young beauty had experienced, she showed no fear. Her bravery only made him want her more. As he approached the Namari wench the joking soldiers immediately stopped their banter and greeted him. He nodded at them and waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. He wanted to be alone with this bewitching young mother. “At last we meet, my lovely Syrene. I must admit that I’ve been looking forward to this for quite some time,” Romulus said. Syrene looked up at him, amethyst eyes blazing. “I take it that you have been planning our capture for many moons. What do you want with my daughter and me?” “You are very astute my dear. Ever since I first learned of the legend of a sorceress born to your people I’ve been determined to have such power at my disposal. Your long awaited daughter is the key to securing rulership of all Antares for my heir, Tarin. As for you my lovely Syrene, you will have your place of honor in my bed. I assume that your husband is with the other Namari males.” If baby Damara had not been in her arms, Syrene would have lunged at the tall, self assured monarch and torn his eyes out. “You murdering bastard. You know that he is dead on your orders!” Syrene cried as fresh tears of grief rushed down her cheeks. Her tears left Romulus momentarily speechless and a little ashamed of the pain that he had caused this young girl. “Syrene I did not give the order to have your husband killed. On that you have my word,” Romulus told her. “Your word means nothing to me. We both know that deep down Jago’s death pleases you. However, my liege you didn’t count on one thing, my resistance. I will never yield to you,” Syrene exclaimed. King Romulus walked closer to her and promised, “You will submit to me or I shall take you by force. Either way I shall avail myself of the treasure betwixt your thighs. Jago was your first lover and you shared a bond with him, but in my bed you will think of no one but me.” The lustful arrogant bastard. Syrene looked into the king’s black eyes. As much as she hated him, the part of her that was a woman couldn’t deny that he was a handsome specimen. Cropped dark hair. High forehead, aquiline nose and a strong clean shaven jaw. His body was bulging with muscles. It was obvious that if Romulus chose to take her against her will, she wouldn’t be able to stop him. “If rape appeals to you my lord, then so be it because I will never give to you what I gave to my husband in love,” Syrene maintained. “Your spirit excites me Syrene. With passion like that what man wouldn’t risk his life to possess you,” the king said reaching out to touch her golden hair, letting the silky strands fall between his fingers. She jerked away from his touch. Romulus wrapped his fingers around a lock of her hair and tugged in response. Syrene winced in protest at his manhandling. “It is time that you learned who is master here, wench. My indulgence of you will only extend so far. Now come and let us go to your rooms so that you and the little sorceress can be settled into your new home,” Romulus said. “I go nowhere until I know what has become of my son,” Syrene said strongly. “Your son?” Romulus asked dumbfounded. “Yes, my son. I bore Jago twins. Damara and our son Ronan Jase Serrano. It seems that perhaps there was something that your spies neglected mentioning,” Syrene said sarcastically. Romulus strode to the Throne Room doors and threw them open bellowing, “Guards!” He made his way back to where Syrene stood. In a matter of moments three palace guards appeared. “My lord how may we serve you?” one of them asked touching his helmet. “Go to the captives’ city and find out who is caring for Syrene Serrano’s son. Bring the boy to me and assure those caring for him that the boy will not be harmed. Now go,” Romulus said ordering them out. When the men were gone he turned his attention back to Syrene. She was studying him with a puzzled look on her face. “My lord I understand why you want my daughter and I, but why did you have to enslave my people? You have Damara and I. Please let the Namarians go. “How noble. Thinking of saving others when there is no one to save you. I admire you for your courage, but I will not release your people,” King Romulus said. “My lord I beg of you. Please. What purpose could you have for them?” Syrene pleaded. “Come my dear. Let me show you something that may make all of this easier for you to understand,” Romulus said motioning for her to follow him. He made his way to the Great Hall and stood in front of the gold plated lineage tree. “This tree traces the rulership of Titania from the very first ruler,” Romulus said moving his arm down the tree, “Ah, here we are. Mercurius Gonovan. The first king of the second millennium and I’m sure that you recognize the name next to his.” Syrene’s mouth gaped open in shock. The name Tarana Imonis was carved in gold next to that of the king. “I take it that you know who she was from the expression on your face,” the king teased her. “Every Namari child hears the story of her tragic fate. Seeing her name on this tree just reminds me that it is not just legend, but in fact truth,” Syrene said solemnly. “Indeed my dear. She bore Mercurius seven children and he loved her more than any of his wives or concubines. That’s why her name is on this tree and theirs are not. Tarana became bitter because she never came into her own as the Namari Sorceress and her assassination attempt cost her her life. You Namari wenches have a way of getting under a man’s skin.” Romulus moved his finger to the name Jahdai Antonius, “Tarana and Mercurius’ middle son.” He took his time moving towards the bottom of the tree. When he reached the next to last leaf Syrene couldn’t contain her gasp of shock. “You have Namari blood!” she exclaimed loudly. “Exactly my dear, as did my deceased wife Alexia.” “So are my people the possessions that link you to your heritage?” Syrene asked, still not sure what all this had to do with her people’s captivity. “In a way yes. Not to mention that now I have my pick of the most beautiful women on all of Antares.” “Just when I think that there is more to you than meets the eye, I am reminded once again that you are nothing but a cruel, selfish bastard,” Syrene spat shooting him daggers with her eyes. “But there is more than that my sweet. Your daughter is part of the prophecy,” Romulus said. “What prophecy?” “In time my dear” “My lord we have the boy,” the guards said entering the Great Hall. “Praise be the gods,” Syrene said turning to them. “Who was caring for the boy?” King Romulus asked. “A middle aged wench named Careaya and an elderly Namari woman called Dhisanaa,” one of the guards volunteered. “Thank the gods that they are safe,” Syrene said aloud. “Who are they to you?” Romulus demanded. “My mother and the High Vatess. Dhisanaa is supposed to be one of Damara’s teachers until she is able to use her powers.” “Give the boy to me and take your leave men,” the king commanded. The guard holding the baby placed the mewling infant in the king’s massive arms. “Please my liege, don’t hurt my son,” Syrene begged, fear clutching at her breast. “I would no more harm him than I would you. Now come my little one so that I can show you to your quarters.” Syrene meekly followed him out of the Great Hall and up a majestic stone staircase. All of a sudden she was so tired. The events of the evening were taking a heavy toll on her. Romulus moved with ease up the stairs. They passed many sets of heavy bronze doors. Finally they reached the end of the hallway. “This is the Silver Suite,” Romulus said easily opening the heavy silver plated doors. Syrene followed him inside and stared in stunned amazement. “This is the living area where you may entertain any guests that I allow you to have.” Large, plush sheep skin seats lined the walls as well as many expertly carved tables and furnishings. The king let her look around before leading her to the next room. “This is your bath chamber. The palace servants will bring you hot water for your baths,” his majesty explained. A huge silver plated bathing box sat raised off a set of stone steps. The thing had to be long enough for Romulus’ tall frame and at least deep enough to reach his waist. |
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