The Apostle of Asphodel

By Celina Summers

Sometimes magic isn't the weapon of the mage. Sometimes the mage is the weapon of the magic.

Tamsen is now the Elven Queen, and a dreadful responsibility has fallen upon her. She must build the greatest army the seven kingdoms have ever known, and return to the blood-plains of fabled Ilia to fight the war the Elves once refused to join. Awaiting her there will be her hated uncle, the Duke de Spesialle. But first, she must find the warrior women of Hippolytos, the greatest fighting force in the world, and discover what secrets the Ka'antira pendant has hidden for so long.

But the real battle is not in front of the ruins of Ilia. She must make her way to the infamous arena of the gods. There she will undertake the final test in the gods' great game--and confront the witch-goddess Lamashtu.

Tamsen's path to Ilia has been fraught with peril, but in the arena decisions are final. And in order to preserve the Elven Realm, Tamsen must be prepared to lose everything she loves.

Can she make the final sacrifice? Or will she doom the Elves--and herself--to destruction?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celina Summers
• Release date: Aug 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370545773

Celina Summers

Celina Summers is a speculative fiction author who mashes all kinds of genres into one giant fantasy goo. Her first fantasy series, The Asphodel Cycle, was honored with multiple awards--including top ten finishes for all four books in the P&E Readers' Poll as well as a prestigious Golden Rose nomination. The Asphodel Cycle combines a strong classical mythology foundation, traditional fantasy characters and settings, and strong female protagonists--all elements to be found in all her work. Celina also writes contemporary literary fantasy under the pseudonym CA Chevault. Her other published works include the Mythos sensual romance series about Greco-Roman goddesses; Metamorphosis, a collection of her short stories; and the Covenant series, vampire historical fiction co-authored with Canadian author Rob Graham. Celina was the editor of the speculative fiction ezine Penumbra, and has worked as an editor and managing editor in e-publishing for well over a decade. Celina lives in Ohio with her husband and a plethora of rescued cats. She has two grown daughters, which leaves her a lot of time to sit at home and write.

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Copyright

The Asphodel Cycle Book Four:

The Apostle of Asphodel

Copyright @2009, 2016 Celina Summers

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events is coincidental.

Originally published by Aspen Mountain Press, Nov 2009

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

www.cachevault.org

Released in the United States of America

Cover art—KMD Web Designs

Formatting & design—KMD Web Designs

Dramatis Personae

Asphodel

Prosper de Asphodel—Count of Asphodel, Tamsen’s father

Solange de Spesialle—wife of Prosper, Tamsen’s mother

Tamsen de Asphodel—ruling Countess of Asphodel

The Elven Realm

The House of Ka’antira

Kaldarte—the Elven Seer, wife of Arami, mother of Lamec, Wilden, and Morrote

Arami—Woodlands Lord

Lamec—member of the Elven Council, father of Liliath and Cetenne

Ardenne—Lamec’s wife

Liliath—Tamsen’s foster-sister, Cetenne’s twin

Cetenne—Tamsen’s foster sister, Liliath’s twin

Wilden—Elven Scout, fealty-found to Mariol, Marquis de Beotte and Morrote’s twin

Morrote—Elven Scout, fealty-bound to Mariol, Marquis de Beotte and Wilden’s twin

Antir—last of the Elven Kings, brother to Kaldarte

The House of Ka’breona

Brial—Elven Scout leader

Beron—commander of Elven armies, father of Brial, Balon, and Berond

Balon—Brial’s brother

Berond—Brial’s brother

The House of Ka’charona

Acheros—leader of the Elven Council of Elders

Leither—Acheros’ wife, mind mage, head of Elven Mages

Geochon

Lufaux—King of Ansienne

Mariol—Marquis de Beotte, cousin to the King, member of Privy Council, and warmage

Anton de Ceolliune—Duke de Ceolliune, co-ruler of Callat-Ceolliune, father to Anner

Anner de Ceolliune—heir to the duchy of Ceolliune

Jeshan de Callat—Count of Callat, co-ruler of Callat-Ceolliune

Glaucon de Pamphylia—heir to the duchy of Pamphylia

Mylan de Phoclydies—Earl of Phoclydies

Myrielle—Mariol’s mistress

Gabril de Spesialle—Duke of Spesialle, brother to Solange, member of Privy Council

Hyagrem de Silenos—warmage, tutor of Tamsen

Dedication

To Cherry, who never gave up on me; to Mary, who always encouraged me; to Helen who always corrects me; to Jeanne who always cheers me; and to the best damn cover artist in digital publishing—badass inspiring women all.

Reviews

…I enjoy a lot of books but there aren’t many that I read that I can say brought tears to my eyes, caused me to laugh, or caused me to feel choked with emotion. But Summers’ characterizations and dialogue in The Asphodel Cycle did bring all those emotions and more to me, enhancing the pleasure of these books...

—An American Editor

…There have been times I have felt cheated when reading a fantasy quest…Ms. Summers never cheats. Each of her books is packed with intensity and gentleness. Still she leaves you craving more. While reading Redemption I felt there was an underlying meaning to Tamsen’s journey. There is more to her adventure and battle, she is learning her own truth, her strength of being. How does a writer capture this? This is the craft of writing, which Ms. Summers dominates…

—Chris Chat Reviews

…Tamsen de Asphodel is a strong female fantasy character in a male dominated genre. She is a breath of fresh air, witty and sarcastic, vulnerable and iron-clad. She is stubborn and headstrong and goes off to do her own thing, not needing rescue by her entourage of men, which often leaves them in her dust, fuming at her insolence. Her weakness is the reckoning: her gift of power from the gods is also her greatest burden…

—Amazon reviewer

...This has to be the best fantasy romance I have ever read. I could not put this book down until I had read the final page...

—Coffee Time Romance & More

…The Reckoning of Asphodel, by Celina Summers, is traditional high fantasy, with chivalric knights and wood-wise elves, beautiful princesses and wise female seers, good and evil sorcerers and magicians. It’s written in the language typical of the genre. It is, however, much better written, with more complex characters and situations, than many similar books. This is a serious fantasy novel, not the verbal equivalent of a computer game...

—Novelspot.com

Prologue

I have never been one of those fortunate women who is able to chuckle over the foibles of her silly husband. Brial has more than his share of faults: he is foul-tempered, intolerant, too protective and sarcastic when he chooses to be. He is stubborn to an extreme unheard of in polite society and harbors a deep-seated scorn for the intricate trappings of Court life.

Unfortunately, he is also an Elf and to laugh at an Elf’s follies is to alienate them completely. Instead of the normal marital fights over taking out the rubbish and not leaving wet stockings on the floor by the bed, whenever Brial and I argued it was about trivial matters as who was taking which army where and who had the ultimate say-so in any decision. The fact that I was newly crowned the Queen of the Elven Realm hampered these confrontations as I technically became Brial’s ruler.

Suffice it to say, therefore, that I ruled all of the Elves…but one.

Whereas my self-appointed custos, my uncle Wilden, obeyed me and even my foster mother Kaldarte, the Elven Seer, occasionally bowed her head to my wishes, Brial was unimpressed by my new and mostly unwanted position. Whenever I tried my new tricks of command upon him, his brows would lower over his back eyes, his beautiful mouth would press into a tight line and his pointed Elven ears would flush red at the tips—a sure sign of an approaching explosion.

Whenever those ear points turned red, grown men of our acquaintance would flee.

Of course, I wasn’t the stereotypical adoring Elven wife. I was the Ka’antira heir, the last of an unbroken royal line that stretched back into the aeons of forever. My cousins, and current heirs, the twin Elven mages Liliath and Cetenne, were no more docile than I. Liliath seemed ready to snare my brother-in-law Berond after a chase of several years’ duration, while Cetenne was interminably engaged to wed our human friend and ally Glaucon de Pamphylia, heir to the duchy that bore the same name. Kaldarte had raised us all to be independent, intellectually challenging women, a fact that several of the men in our extended family deplored.

My life was anything but simple.

Had I been a pureblooded Elven daughter, I am sure, my parents would have raised me with the intricate formalities and expected demeanor of an Elfmaiden. I never would have dreamed of arguing with Brial about every little issue that popped up in our lives. The sad fact remained that I enjoyed arguing with my irascible husband. Although he was inclined to run roughshod over my objections, it was exhilarating to remind him—usually at the top of my voice—of how independent I was.

For example—

We were sailing in open waters some hundred leagues off of the southern coast of Valaud, a kingdom we’d narrowly defeated in their invasion attempt several years earlier. Our party was on its way to Hippolytos, an island reputedly populated with a race of women warriors whose bravery was famous in the mythology of the seven kingdoms. In anticipation of this, Brial and Wilden, along with our close friend Anner, the Duke de Ceolliune, worked on their sword exercises tirelessly on the deck of our ship. I was watching them one day from the comfort of my deck chair. Sometimes, I participated in the exercises with them, but I was still recovering from a pummeling I’d taken in Spesialle a couple of weeks before.

While I watched, some evil genius prompted me to comment, You know, I don’t know why you’re doing that. We aren’t going to Hippolytos to fight anybody.

That wasn’t precisely what I’d meant to say. I’d been thinking about something else when I made the comment, and muddled the two thoughts when I spoke.

Brial paused and glared at me. At some point earlier, he’d removed his linen shirt and I stared appreciatively, distracted by his lean sweat-slicked body.

We’re doing this so that we can protect you if you’re attacked, Tamsen.

Well, I don’t think that female warriors will consider me a threat. You, on the other hand, might just incite them to belligerence.

Beside me, his face shaded by a ridiculous broad-brimmed hat, Mariol, the sorcerer lord of Beotte, laid his book aside and looked up at the scene with an air of mischievous interest. That’s the way to tell him, Tamsen! he goaded me, his eyes sparkling with fun. "Keep that up and he’ll really get angry."

I’m just stating a fact, I said, a little peeved by Brial’s swift, defensive attitude. I’ve already said that we’re not marching onto that island waving our swords, so I think all of this practicing is a little silly.

Silly? my husband echoed, his black eyes narrowing. "We do this every day to stay limber and in good stead for battle, as you well know, Tamsen. And, just for the record, I am going to march onto that island waving my sword, so you’d better get used to it."

Wonderful. I can’t wait to see the great Ka’breona warrior felled by a group of angry women.

Wilden’s lips twitched as he stepped back out of Brial’s immediate range. Anner watched the scene from his safe haven near the rail. Mariol scooted his chair several feet away from me and Brial stalked straight up to tower over my seat.

I’m not certain if you’re purposely trying to be stupid or if it just came naturally today, Brial drawled, his black eyes sparking dangerously. "I’d recommend, however, that you consider your next few words very carefully, alanna."

I widened my eyes at him and cooed, Oh, I’m so sorry, Brial. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

He stared at me in disgust.

We are not going to offer any threat to these women, I said, in a flat, businesslike voice. Remember what I’ve said, Brial. We are going to Hippolytos for information. We’re not likely to get it if we insult everyone there.

Have you ever known me to stupidly start a fight when we don’t need to? he demanded and looked honestly taken aback when four voices answered, Yes.

Brial snatched his shirt from the scrubbed planking on the deck, muttering to himself as he stalked away. I shrugged and returned my attention to my book.

Tamsen, I’m sure you had a good reason to start a fight, Wilden began reprovingly.

Not really. My first statement came out differently than what I’d intended, but when Brial jumped down my throat my temper got the best of me.

Obviously you’ve been out in the sun too long. Wilden looked after my husband’s retreating back with a frown as Mariol slapped his brow. We’re living in rather close quarters for you two to be arguing. I don’t have much of a problem with it when we’re in the middle of an open plain, but if you start wrangling on a ship it will get on my nerves. Go and apologize.

I looked up at my Elven uncle and was ashamed when I saw the look of disappointment on his face.

You’re right, Wilden, I conceded, forgetting that I was a Queen and that he shouldn’t be telling me what to do. I was out of line. I’ll go and tell him so.

Brial was, as I’d guessed, standing at the prow of the ship staring out over the sea. We’d commandeered an Ansienne warship when we’d left Spesialle, so it moved through the choppy ocean faster than a bulkier merchant ship. His long, fair hair was tied back but strands of it streamed behind him like banners in the wind.

Yes, Tamsen?

That was another annoying thing. Brial was an Elven scout and it was practically impossible to sneak up on him.

I’m sorry I was snippy with you. I was out of sorts and my first comment didn’t come out the way I’d intended. I lost my temper and goaded you into losing yours. I’m truly sorry.

One long, muscled arm snaked out and pulled me to him. "It’s all right, alanna," he said, tucking my head under his chin. I must have been out of temper as well since I took your comment so seriously. Let’s just forget about it.

It’s very hard to laugh about a man’s faults, when he is only too willing to admit his own and apologize for them after the heat of the moment is gone. Unlike most women, I’d never be able to shake my head with patronizing superiority when speaking of my husband. Instead, I’d have to learn to live with the fact that we were, despite titles and rank, equal in our relationship.

That evening, as Kaldarte and I prepared supper for the hungry sailors (who’d begged us to take over the kitchen from their previous, dreadfully horrible cook) and our party, the captain of the ship knocked on the galley door.

Milady, he said, removing his cap, I thought you’d want to know that we should be sighting Hippolytos tomorrow afternoon.

Already? I tossed the lettuce leaves I was shredding with a light dressing of herbs and olive oil.

Yes, milady.

Have you ever landed there?

No, milady. I don’t rightly know of anyone who has gone to Hippolytos either.

Captain, why don’t you eat your dinner with us this evening? I invited him. Then we can all listen to what you have to say and make a decision.

Aye, milady. ’Twill be my pleasure, the captain replied, bobbing his head to Kaldarte and stepping back out of the galley.

That’s interesting, Kaldarte noted as she diced vegetables into the fish chowder bubbling merrily over the brazier. If no one has landed on the island, how will we know where to go?

Perhaps Brial has the right of it after all. Maybe there isn’t any way that we can find out what we need to discover.

I doubt that, Kaldarte said comfortingly. Surely the gods will show us the way.

As I completed the salad and began to dish it out onto the waiting row of tin plates, I hoped that she was right.

Chapter One

The captain’s name was Fice. He joined us in our cabin for the evening meal with the air of a man who hates formal implements like silverware and napkins. The combined table manners of the other four men in the room, which were not terribly inspiring, soon put him at his ease and he ate the fish stew and salad with appreciative gusto.

I haven’t told you ladies how grateful I am that you’ve taken up the cooking on this trip, he said when his plate was clean. Our cook is a fine man and a damned good navigator, but he only knows how to boil beef and beans. Anyone gets sick of that kind of diet.

Actually, it’s nice to have something to do, Kaldarte assured him, her amber eyes shining under the masses of her auburn hair. I’d be bored if it weren’t for your galley.

Fice reached for the roll of maps he’d brought into the cabin with him. As you can see, Hippolytos is a pretty big island. As far as I know, there aren’t any cities or ports to be seen. When we find a likely place to drop you off, I’ll run the ship in as closely as I dare. Hopefully, we can find a deep cove, so that we can unload your horses straight onto shore.

You’ll have to wait for us, I said, peering at the map. I don’t know how long we’ll be on the island, but I’m positive that we’ll need to go somewhere else. Once we find the ruler of Hippolytos, I’ll apply for permission for you and your men to come ashore and resupply your ship. I’ll pay for the supplies.

If you’ll pardon me saying so, Fice said, his steady gaze fixed on my scowling husband. Everything I’ve ever heard about this island is bad. The women who live there don’t think kindly of strangers, I take it. There was a group of men that went on a trading mission there a few years back. They didn’t come back.

Well, that can’t be helped. I have to go there. I don’t think we’ll have the same problems, captain. We’ll go ahead and get our things ready to disembark, then tomorrow we’ll find someplace for you to put us ashore.

Yes, milady. Fice rose to his feet, looking like a man who’d done his duty only to find his advice ignored. Thank you for the meal, ladies. That’s the best stew I’ve had in a long while. He bowed to us, and left the cabin, closing the door behind him.

It’s a little disconcerting to hear things like that, Anner confessed, looking down at the map that Fice had left on the table. We’re going to a place that sailors think is bad. That can’t be good.

I think that when we get on shore, it might be best if Kaldarte and I seem to be leading our party, I said, trying to find a delicate way to voice my thoughts. It may be that these warriors are less likely to attack a group headed by other women.

You’re probably right. Mariol scratched at the beard he’d begun to grow since he’d escaped from his wife’s clutches.

Brial’s eyes locked with mine and I could tell by the wry smile twisting his lips that he saw through my attempt to be tactful. If you want to be technical about it, we are led by a woman. You are the Elven Queen, after all.

Let’s just proceed very carefully until we find out a bit more, I said. It’d be just my luck to find out that these warrior women are also cannibals, and look at Elf as a delicacy. Just let Kaldarte and I handle the talking, if there is any, and hopefully we can get through this without killing too many of them.

…

After we’d retired to our cabin for the night, Brial sat on the edge of the bunk and watched while I changed into my nightrobe. The cabin had one very small porthole, with a cunning hinged pane of glass that could be latched in stormy weather. It was our only source of fresh air. Fortunately, the bunk was bolted to the floor underneath it, so in the middle of the night a refreshing tropical breeze wafted over us as we slept. That night, the breeze was swifter than usual, blowing my hair around my head until I took a brush to it and determinedly began to plait it for the night.

Brial usually loved to watch me do this, but on his face was distant and somewhat distracted.

What’s the matter? I asked, breaking the laden silence.

I am worried about what we’ll face tomorrow, he confessed as I tied a ribbon around the end of the long silvery braid.

There’s no need to worry about it too much. We don’t know what it is.

That’s what worries me, he said glumly.

I sat on the edge of the bunk next to him, and looked at him quite seriously. Brial, you can’t be prepared for everything. Sometimes we just have to take it as it comes.

That doesn’t make it any easier.

No, it doesn’t. But, it does save a great deal of time and worry.

He smiled then, and it was like the sun rising over the waves. "You’re right, of course. I’ll try to stop, alanna."

That’s good. I can think of much better ways to spend our time, I purred, nestling in closer to him and nipping the point of his ear with my teeth. He growled low in his throat and I laughed, overjoyed by the speed with which he abandoned his gloomy mood for a pastime that was much more entertaining and quite active besides.

…

I see a likely cove ahead, Cap’n! the sailor shouted down from the crow’s nest. It looks deep enough to sail into, and I think we can get the horses to shore.

Fice took his spyglass and peered in the direction that the sailor was pointing. Nodding, he shouted directions to the man at the tiller. Smoothly, the ship turned and headed for the long strip of unbroken green that lay ahead of us. As far as the eye could see, there was no sign of any habitation on the island.

It doesn’t look very welcoming, does it? Anner asked as we scanned the approaching coastline.

It looks empty, I corrected him.

The ship pulled into the cove, as the sailors sounded the bottom ahead of us by dropping long weights attached to ropes. We managed to pull within a few feet of the shore and sailors jumped into the water and wrestled the gangplank onto the sand. Wilden and Brial led the horses onto dry land while we followed with our various bags and bundles.

Pull back out from the shallows, I instructed the captain. When we need to leave, we’ll return to this shore and send up a signal. If everything goes well and you can come ashore, I’ll pop back on deck and let you know.

And how exactly are you going to do that? the captain asked skeptically.

Are you sure you want to know? I asked him, smiling.

I’ll leave all of that to you, milady, he assured me. When you want to leave, we’ll be here. I’ll set a watch on this shore. If anything is coming, I’ll know about it.

I shook his hand and then Anner helping me down the wobbling gangplank. While the men saddled the horses, I sent a magical probe winging through the area surrounding us and discovered nothing. Sighing, I mounted my horse and sat moodily watching the ship pull back out into open waters.

"Well, alanna," Brial said, climbing into his saddle. Where do we go now?

We travel west, I said, more out of a desire to pick a direction than any clear idea of where we were supposed to go.

Hippolytos was a beautiful place, lush with strange and exotic plant life amid a thick, overgrown rainforest. The Elves looked approvingly at the heavy vegetation, but I must confess that I found it all a bit overpowering. The smells of flowery perfumes and wet ground assaulted my nostrils and the brightness of the verdant plants battered my eyes.

After an hour or so, the jungle was too thick to travel through with ease. Wilden and Anner dismounted, and, swinging their swords like scythes, started to clear a path through the plants. It was hot, slow, sticky work. By nightfall, we’d managed only a small distance, and were all tired and disgruntled.

Completely by chance, we came across a tiny clearing and there we set up camp for the evening. The tropical night was too sultry for comfort, so instead of cooking we ate cold rations while sitting in a grumpy group around Elfstones glowing more for comfort than for anything else.

After the sun set, the jungle came alive with all sorts of nasty biting insects, who hummed around our ears before settling in to feast on our flesh. After about ten minutes of being an insect banquet, I helped Kaldarte mix up a thick paste of insect repellent, using astringent herbs and an unfortunate decoction of garlic juice. We were smelly, but the insects left us alone. We crawled into our tents, exhausted and itchy and smelling like a country farm-wife’s stew.

…

I awoke early the next morning, as was my custom, and crawled over Brial out into the half-light of predawn. Now that the air had cooled, the jungle was rather pretty. Anner smiled at me from his position as watch, and I crossed over to join him.

Did you sleep well? he asked.

Not really, I replied. I must have put our blankets on a rock, but I was too lazy to fish it out.

I worked on a crick in my neck as I gazed around at the thick screen of the rainforest. Yawning, I sent out my customary morning probe, scanning the area around us, and froze. Concealed among the dense vegetation was a group of humans—large enough for a patrol of scouts. We were no longer alone. Anner, who was watching my face, instantly was alert.

Visitors? he asked, his voice no more than a breath.

Several, I replied. The camp is surrounded. Unbuckle your sword belt, Anner, and let it fall to the ground.

He stared at me. Tamsen, you know that isn’t wise.

Anner, do you think I’ll let anyone unfriendly get into this camp?

Anner complied, shaking his head in disgust as he walked into the precise center of our campsite and removed his sword so that anyone watching us could see it. He returned to my side.

Now what?

I smiled at him sweetly.

I am Tamsen Ka’antira, Queen of the Elves! I shouted. I have come to speak to your Queen, if you could take me to her. We mean no harm and only ask for safe passage to meet your ruler.

Anner groaned, his gaze darting about the jungle.

A moment later, a tall woman rose out of the brush. She was clad in a short, kirtled tunic, over which she wore a plain burnished breastplate. On her head, she wore a helmet with a long crest made of horsehair. Her face was stern and grim, her cold, green eyes leveled on my face. She carried a long spear with a wicked-looking iron point, and that spear was pointed at my chest. I held my hands, palms up, in front of me and inclined my head.

Greetings, warrior, I said, holding my weaponless hands up. I am Tamsen Ka’antira. I apologize for my party’s trespass on your island, but I have been sent to Hippolytos in search of information that I hope your Queen or ruling council may provide. May I know your name?

I am Alanta, the warrior said, her spear never moving. Our Queen does not welcome outsiders. I know that your ship awaits your return in the shoals. Return to it at once and leave this island or we will be forced to kill you.

There was an ominous stir in the tent behind me.

I’m afraid I cannot do that. My mission is too urgent.

We do not care for the ‘urgent missions’ of outlanders.

Be that as it may, if I had a warrior who treated a royal visitor in this fashion, I would see her hanged! I snapped, and Anner moved restlessly at my side. Does your Queen require that her soldiers determine what she will and will not hear? I would not tolerate such behavior.

Alanta glared at me, while behind us twelve or thirteen other warriors materialized out of the trees. I stood facing them, my chin lifted in defiance, with the unarmed man at my side standing stock-still and wooden as he scowled at them.

One of the newcomers stepped up beside Alanta and gazed at me calmly.

It is our custom to discourage travelers from stopping on this isle, she said. However, there is truth in your observation. A foreign Queen, if you are what you say, should be taken to Penthesilea.

Do not doubt the words of the Elven Queen, Anner growled from my side.

You call her the Elven Queen, and yet she is accompanied by a human, the warrior said, her penetrating gaze roving over our campsite. Several humans, as a matter of fact. Also, she does not seem to be an Elf herself.

I am half-Elven, but the only heir of the direct royal line, I interjected.

Would the Elves have a Queen with human parentage?

Would the Hippolytes have a Queen with one male parent? I countered sweetly.

Anner winced.

The Hippolyte warrior stared at me for a moment then laughed. I see your point, Elven Queen. Very well, we shall take your party to Queen Penthesilea and she will judge your fate. The men of your group, however, must remain unarmed and we will confiscate their weapons.

No. We are not here to attack your people. There are only six of us. We are warriors, true, but we bear no ill will toward the Hippolytes. According to the laws of my people, I may not go undefended at any time. They will keep their weapons. If it is necessary, I will serve as hostage to ensure their good behavior.

The warrior eyed Anner shrewdly. So be it. You will stay with me as hostage, and your warriors will keep their weapons.

She strode through the clearing and held out her hand. I unbuckled the Ka’breona bridesword from my hip and handed it to her with the warning, This is a valuable weapon and an heirloom of my house. Take care of it while it is in your possession.

She examined the blade and bowed to me. This blade will receive nothing but honor in my care, Elven Queen. It is a good blade and true, with honorable marks of use upon it. This is a weapon any warrior would be proud to hold. I am Antiope, and I welcome you in the name of our Queen.

I inclined my head and turned to Anner. Get the others up and get ready to move out. I will stay with my host as we travel. It is your responsibility, Lord de Ceolliune, to see that everyone behaves with circumspection. Do I make myself clear?

Perfectly, Your Majesty, Anner replied, and only the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement at my royal tone.

…

We traveled quicker now that we were escorted by Hippolyte warriors. They led us after only an hour’s travel to a trail carved into the jungle, and the going was much easier after that. Although we were mounted, the warriors kept pace with us quite readily. I was impressed both with their endurance and their obvious physical prowess.

Alanta was the only one of the women who displayed any emotions whatsoever; the scowl on her face deepened as the day wore on and it could not have been plainer that she was itching to drive her spear between my shoulder blades. The other warriors were inscrutable, displaying no curiosity as we progressed through the humid rain forest.

Brial rode with a perpetual frown etched onto his face, his black eyes narrowed. I shot him one or two quelling looks and his anger simmered behind his blank, shuttered face.

Antiope kept up a steady jog at the side of my horse, but we didn’t converse. The entire party was wrapped in a blanket of sullen silence. The day grew hot and the insects began to swarm around us again. While the men slapped and sweated and cursed, the Hippolytes were unaffected, striding stoically down the path that led us ever deeper into the jungle.

Finally, in the late afternoon, the path began to rise. Before long, we were climbing a mountain trail, leading the horses in some spots. The trail curved around the mountain and after several miles broke out into an open valley. Immediately, a sweet-scented, cool breeze rushed across my perspiring, tired body. I breathed the fresh air in gratefully.

We are nearing the tribetown, Antiope said. Have your warriors dismount and my squad will take care of your horses.

Thank you. I swung out of the saddle and gestured to the others to do the same.

Wilden insisted on removing our supply packs from the spare horse, much to the consternation of the young warrior who was trying to lead the horse away. When she snarled at him and made as if to raise her spear, Wilden stared at her with that wooden-faced regard that had, in times past, reduced me to a quivering state of stupidity.

Your warrior is disciplined, Antiope said in approval.

You have no idea, I replied. When the woman looked at me questioningly, I continued, He is my uncle.

I see. It is a great honor to your uncle that you have included him in your personal bodyguard.

I didn’t really have a choice, I muttered, but Antiope didn’t seem to hear the comment, or if she did, chose not to respond.

The walk through the valley was a pleasant one, if you overlooked the fact that we were escorted by thirteen grim-faced women with spears and swords. As we approached the far side, an opening materialized between the hills. We crossed through it and found ourselves looking down on a substantial town. The buildings were wooden, built of heavy, planed planks and whitewashed with lime. The roofs were made of red, circular tiles. Instead of the familiar streets of Ansienne villages, there were no obvious thoroughfares in this town, or tribetown as it was known to the Hippolytes. Instead, the buildings sat upon cropped grass, lending a pleasing aspect to the city as a whole.

Antiope didn’t comment, merely led us down the slope at an easy, long stride. When we reached the bottom, we were confronted by another group of Hippolytes, carrying spears and perturbed at the appearance of visitors in their midst. Antiope brushed past them without a word, leading us to a round building in the center of the town.

I experienced a peculiar burning feeling in my back as we walked away from those warriors. Fice had been right: these women did not take kindly to strangers.

Our guide gestured for us to stay where we were, then ducked her tall head under the doorframe and entered the building alone. I darted a glance over my shoulder at the rest of my party, and noted the same tight expressions on all of their faces save Kaldarte’s.

It’s going well, don’t you think? I asked in a bright tone I knew would set Brial’s teeth on edge.

"Extremely well, alanna," Brial said sarcastically, his hand fidgeting everywhere but the hilt of his sword.

Just relax and follow my lead. Kaldarte, why don’t you come and help me?

My foster mother smiled and came to my side as if she hadn’t a care in the world. The men watched her sourly.

Antiope reemerged from the building, her face expressionless, and said only, Come.

The round building was one large room, its ceiling vaulting to a conical point that was open to the sky. The floor was made of flat river stones, laid in a precise spiral. Tapestries of lurid battle scenes hung upon the walls, filling the room with a vital glow. There was no furniture and no one in the room save for one extremely tall woman who stood in the exact center.

Unlike the other Hippolytes, she was clad in an unbleached linen stola that fell straight to the floor from her broad shoulders. Her face was unlined, but her hair was iron gray and hacked off close to her head. Her eyes were an extraordinary shade of deep blue and they surveyed me coolly as I entered the room. She wore a heavy necklace of hammered gold that coiled around her throat.

I walked to the center of the room, Kaldarte at my shoulder, and stopped some three feet away from this stoic, silent woman who regarded me with a warrior’s detachment. Then I inclined my head, in respect, and waited.

My daughter tells me that you claim to be the Elven Queen, she said in a deep voice for a woman.

"I am Tamsen Ka’antira, and I am the Queen of the Elves," I replied, unable to stop the slight emphasis on the word ‘am.’

She nodded her head in acknowledgment. I am Penthesilea and I rule on Hippolytos.

I thank you for your courtesy in seeing me. My mission is urgent else I would never have trespassed upon your lands.

Her eyes moved over the group of silent men, standing some distance behind me. These are your warriors? I suppose you are too young to have taken a mate as of yet.

Actually, my mate is here, I corrected her, unsure of the reason for her line of inquiry but unwilling to agitate her by not responding. We have been mated for three years.

Is it the custom, then, to mate so young among the Elves?

No, I admitted. We married from necessity.

What could cause such a marriage?

The mandate of the gods, I replied and the Queen nodded her head.

That is so, she said and completely straight-backed, sank into a sitting position on the floor. Please, Elven Queen, seat yourself and we shall share wine together as we talk.

I smiled and managed to emulate her movement without falling over or making an idiot of myself. Antiope spoke to someone just outside the door and a little girl came in, bearing a tray with a bottle and two glasses on it. She lowered the tray to the ground next to the Hippolyte Queen, and proceeded to ceremoniously pour wine into the two glasses. I watched Penthesilea carefully, sensing that some obscure ritual was involved here. The Queen picked up her glass, tasted it, turned the glass a half-turn and presented it to me. I accepted the glass and bowed my head, then drank deeply. Penthesilea then picked up the other glass and drank from it.

It is our custom, to show that we despise weapons of cowardice, she explained.

Such as poison? I didn’t think you’d go to all the trouble of wasting good poison on me when you have an entire army gathered outside this building. I drank again, waiting to see what my attempt at humor would accomplish.

Penthesilea looked at me quizzically for a moment, then her loud, hearty laugh echoed from the rafters.

You think like a warrior, she approved, slapping a strong hand against my shoulder blade so that I kept my wine in the goblet only with great difficulty. That is good to see with a mainland female.

Some women choose to be warriors and the honor that accrues to them is great, Kaldarte noted in her rich voice. Still others must become warriors from necessity and that honor is conferred by the gods.

Truly spoken, the Queen acknowledged. May I know your name, wise one?

I am Kaldarte Ka’antira, seer of the Elves, my foster mother introduced herself.

The Queen, to my astonishment, rose to her feet and bowed. I welcome the wisdom of one touched by the gods to my home.

Kaldarte returned the bow gravely. I welcome the honor the Queen of Hippolytos does to my poor gift.

I stared at Kaldarte in amazement. The Queen gestured at the little server while Kaldarte sank to the floor at my side. The girl scurried up with another glass. Penthesilea gave Kaldarte her old goblet and filled the new one for herself.

You are the mother of this Queen?

I am her foster mother, Kaldarte answered. I cared for her when her parents were killed.

Your house has many enemies?

Yes, I said. We are chosen of the Huntress to represent her interests in the conflict she wages against her uncle, the Lord of Death. The minions of Dis are our mortal foes and slaughtered my parents when I was a child.

How did you survive?

My mother sacrificed herself to save me.

A warrior’s decision, Penthesilea said. She looked at me for a moment, and then seemed to reach some internal decision. I have known for some time of your coming, Tamsen, Queen of the Elves. Our goddess’s priestesses informed me several moons ago that you would arrive seeking our knowledge. Some of my warriors did not believe that the goddess would so honor a mainland Queen, but I set my daughter to watch for your coming.

A novel way to welcome expected visitors, I noted, raising one eyebrow.

It is not our way to make any quest simple, Penthesilea explained, baring her teeth in a feral grin. That cheapens the prize and makes warriors soft. We have our own ways of testing, Queen of the Elves. You greeted my warriors with courtesy and compelled your warriors to stay their hands. That spoke well of your discipline. You willingly handed yourself and your honor to Antiope, who shall rule here when I am no more, as hostage against the good behavior of your men. You have treated with me as an equal, displaying neither fear nor arrogance, and that tells me that you are a true Queen with no need of artifice to back your claims. The goddess told us that you are a warrior in your own right and that you fight against an evil destiny so that you may preserve your people. These are good things and things that I respect.

The Queen rose to her feet and held her hand out to me. I welcome you, Tamsen Ka’antira, Queen of the Elves, to the Isle of Hippolytos. Be as honored guests among us and may you find what you seek.

…

Being accepted by the Hippolyte Queen was a lot more comfortable than being escorted to her presence. The grim-faced Penthesilea smiled in a cheerful fashion as we bowed and left her house, and the little girl, who was cleaning up the remains of our ceremonial wine tasting, grinned up at Wilden, who chucked her under her chin. The warrior women, once the news of our accord was spread, relaxed around us and turned out to be pleasant. Alanta was discovered to have a quirky sense of humor, which she used with great success on Anner and Mariol.

Antiope escorted us to a house close by the Queen’s where we could rest and refresh ourselves. The Hippolytes watched as we passed through their town, pausing in their tasks to gaze at us with interest.

The guest house was fashioned along the same lines as the Queen’s and we dumped our packs along the walls with relief.

Antiope bowed. The Queen wishes that you dine with us tonight at a feast in your honor.

Tell the Queen we would be honored, I replied.

As the door closed behind her, a huge weight fell from my shoulders. I massaged my stiff jaws and collapsed onto the bare floor with a groan.

Are you exhausted from your diplomacy? my husband asked acidly.

I shot him a dirty look. I tell you what, Brial—the next time that we’re in this situation, why don’t you try to keep everything on a reasonable level and let me hide in the background and relax?

Children, Kaldarte murmured, turning to the spare pack of clothing. Come, Tamsen. Let’s find something a bit more formal to wear.

Are you serious? I asked in horror. These women are dressed in steel, for pity’s sake. Why do I have to get all dressed up for that?

She reprimanded me with a look. Kaldarte rummaged through the pack, while I sighed in resignation.

We dress up, Tamsen, because it is a way of showing honor to our hosts, Kaldarte said, holding up a gown to inspect it. Penthesilea showed great courage in meeting us unarmed and it is only fitting that we return the favor.

All right, I conceded. I’ll wear whatever you want.

As for you, gentlemen, my foster mother continued, looking around at the silent cluster of men. It’s time to get out your chain mail and polish it.

Polish it? Anner repeated.

Yes, polish it. You are supposed to be mighty champions. Try to look the part, won’t you, dear?

Mariol grinned. "I didn’t bring any