Marya: Anchorage, #1

By Sandra C. Stixrude

Traveling has always frightened Marya, but when the Ktar chooses her to protect the heir on his confirmation journey, she fights panic. A prophecy concerning the heir's death, ominous dreams of a mysterious city, and news that one of the heir's companions will betray him all point to disaster.

Unfortunately, the discovery of the assassin's identity is only the beginning. His menace pales in comparison to the ancient evil lurking in the mountains. When Marya is trapped and the men with her enslaved, she is faced with two choices: surrender to the alien being who offers her power, or ally with the handsome assassin she sought to thwart. One way she loses her soul, the other she may lose her heart.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mischief Corner Books
• Release date: Feb 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386438083

Book preview

About the e-Book You Have Purchased:  

This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the authors. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Cover Artist: Catherine Dair

Third Edition

MARYA: ANCHORAGE BOOK 1 © 2014 Sandra C. Stixrude

All Rights Reserved.

Published in the United States of America.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: Marya: Anchorage Book 1 is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are fictionalized. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material is a model and is being used solely for illustrative purposes.

PUBLISHER

Mischief Corner Books, LLC

Dedication

For my son, Ian, my first critic and avid fan, who asked the hard questions and saved a crucial character from an untimely demise.

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Author's Note

About Sandra C. Stixrude

Also by Sandra

About Mischief Corner Books

Chapter One

Prophecy

Then it was that Tiresin turned at bay, taking refuge within the walls of the city…

Yes, yes, she knew all that, but why had Jeran, clearly the victor, agreed to the treaty leaving his brother, Tiresin, in power?

Marya leaned back to stretch stiff shoulders and rub her eyes. The question had awakened her shortly after midnight and would not let her return to sleep. She planned to teach the treaties of the Fiorate Dynasty in the morning, and the question was one her pupil could conceivably ask, if he paid attention. Now, the three moons had all set, the first hint of dawn gray on the horizon and still she hunted for the reference she needed.

She placed the horn pen down on her nightstand and turned the page. Ah, there…

Knowing his elder brother incapable of producing an heir of his own body, Jeran allowed the ducal seat to remain in Tiresin's hands until his death. The line then passed to Jeran's own sons. Since the oracle had foretold an early end for Tiresin, this satisfied Jeran…

At the first scream, Marya dropped the book to the floor and leapt out of bed. With the second, she threw on her robe and dashed out of her bedroom, through her study and into the hall. She called back to her acolyte who slumbered on the sofa, Sabiana, bring my bag! Hurry, girl!

The cries emanated from the next room, the small chamber where her two sworn temple guards slept. She stopped as she reached for the handle. Something might lurk behind that door. Maybe she should call for help.

Nonsense. Nothing could have passed the temple doors, heavily guarded as they were at night. Her boys needed her. She grasped the brass handle and swung the door wide.

Harrel, the older of the two by mere days, ducked a blind swing from Feren's large fist. Feren's eyes were open, but he gazed on some hideous dreamscape rather than the bedroom around him.

Sh, quiet! Harrel hissed out, trying to maneuver past the wildly swinging fists. You'll wake her and we'll both…

Too late, Marya interrupted dryly from the doorway.

Oh. Harrel swallowed hard as his eyes met hers. His look reminded her of a much younger Harrel with his hand caught in the sweets jar. During his momentary distraction, he forgot to dodge. Feren's left fist landed a glancing blow to his temple, not a direct hit, but enough to knock all six-and-a-half feet of Harrel flat.

To avoid further catastrophe, Marya took the water pitcher from the table and flung the entire contents into Feren's face. He woke, choking and gasping then buried his head in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. Marya's heart ached to see him so upset. She wrapped her arms around his heavily muscled frame and pulled his dripping head down to her shoulder.

There now, she tried to soothe him. The dream's gone. You're safe.

Sabiana arrived at a run with Marya's medical satchel and let out a dramatic gasp.

Harrel! she shrieked and flung herself to her knees by the laid-out guardsman, shoving his thick, black hair off his face. Mother Marya, what happened? Is he all right?

Settle down. A healer must be calm for her patient's sake. Check his pupils for me, as I've taught you, but I think we'll find he's just dazed. He should be fine.

Her acolyte complied with trembling hands, and Harrel soon stirred and groaned.

Will you survive? Marya asked when he seemed able to focus.

I think so, Holiness, Harrel responded as he rubbed the side of his head. Might want to ask me again when all the pretty dancing spots go away.

Marya snorted at his exaggeration, a shameless ploy for sympathy. On teenage girls, though, such tactics worked well. Sabiana fussed over Harrel and insisted on helping him back into his bed where she tucked the blankets around him.

Well, my dears, Marya sighed. Since it's nearly morning and I doubt we'd get any more sleep—Feren, look at me.

He raised his head, wiping the remnants of his tears away with the sleeve of his nightshirt. His eyes were bloodshot and heavily shadowed; all she needed to confirm what she suspected.

I think we'll just get up now and have an early breakfast, she went on briskly. Boys, you'll be having yours in my study instead of in the guards' mess this morning. Sabiana, kindly inform the Officer of the Watch so they will be accounted for.

As soon as the girl scurried away, Marya swatted Harrel's knee. He still sprawled across his bed as if he were faint and dizzy. Get up, Harrel, you're fine. I expect you both in my study in thirty minutes, proper day uniforms, spit and polish. She leaned closer to the lanky nineteen-year-old to whisper, Look after your brother, please. He may be a bit distracted and fog-bound this morning.

Harrel nodded and leapt to his feet with a grin. Thirty minutes, without fail, Holiness. He swept her a bow, the elegance of it ruined by his attire of nightshirt and bed socks.

She left them to begin her own morning rituals. After she washed and dressed, she checked on the supplies in her medicine cabinet, lit the twin-wicked candle by her bedside, and offered first prayers to Lady Alia and her dark husband, Liut.

As an ordained Mother Priestess of the Essensate order, she conducted sunrise services in her assigned chapel. As a healer, she then saw her patients in the temple infirmary. The remainder of the day, every Mother Priestess dedicated to specific duties delegated to each according to her individual abilities.

As a scholar, the temple expected Marya to teach. She would have been content to instruct the children attending the temple school or the girls in the acolytes' classes. Instead, his eminence, Ktar Yanis, had chosen her ten years before to tutor his rather unruly, only son. Though Marya had been merely a newly ordained Adjutant Priestess at the time, the Ktar had been desperate. The heir had frightened off five previous tutors. When Marya protested, the Mother Prelate told her it was an enormous privilege for a commoner to be appointed as the royal tutor.

She sighed, anxious over Feren. The preparations for the heir's confirmation ceremony had taken so much of her energy; she feared she was guilty of neglecting the welfare of those she loved most.

Amid these worried thoughts, Harrel arrived with the laden breakfast tray. Now respectably dressed in his guard uniform of green and gold, he was all proper military precision. His crisp salute to her as he set the tray down was spoiled by his impudent wink, Twenty-six minutes, Holiness, I still have four to spare.

Only if Feren arrives in time as well. You were to look after him.

He's right behind me, Mother Marya, Harrel protested. I swear on Liut's palms…

I'm here, Holiness, Feren spoke up from the doorway, arriving with two more chairs for Marya's writing desk turned breakfast table. Harrel's hand was evident in the extra shine on his jacket's double row of gold buttons and the mirror polish of his boots. Harrel's been hovering like a mama bird, never fear. Though I could have gotten dressed on my own. He smiled for her but the strain in his eyes remained.

Time to get to the bottom of it all, she thought as Sabiana rejoined them and they sat down to eat. Marya ran a hand over Feren's close-cropped hair. How do you feel?

I'm fine. When she snorted, he protested, Truly, I am! I'm sorry I woke everyone this morning and caused such a fuss. Could I just be forgiven so we can go on with the rest of the day?

She hazarded a guess. You haven't been sleeping well for some time, have you?

No, Holiness, Feren mumbled, staring at his plate.

You've been having recurring dreams again?

Yes, Holiness, he whispered.

She fought down her irritation. How long? How many nights has it been?

He bit his lip and refused to respond. Harrel cleared his throat and answered for his brother, Six nights, Holiness…um, that I know of.

That you know of?

Harrel squirmed. He… he may have had them longer, but for the past six nights I've had to wake him. He's been crying out in his sleep.

Marya threw up her hands in disgust. And when, someone tell me, when were you planning on coming to me? When Feren became so ill with fatigue that he could no longer rise from his bed in the morning?

Harrel hung his head. Feren took her hands to distract her from her scolding. Please, Mother Marya, I asked him not to. I thought they'd go away this time. And I couldn't understand why I was so frightened. Every time I tried to tell Harrel about it, I couldn't get the words out.

But you have had recurring dreams before, prophetic ones. No matter how frightening, you should always come to me with them. She gripped his hands. Now tell me.

He swallowed hard and struggled to begin. It's just that it doesn't make any sense. I mean, when I dreamed of ships of fire attacking the port, the marauders did attack with catapults on their ships that threw flame. At least there was a connection to something… to something real.

Yes, and the warning was given to his eminence and the city was prepared. Prophecies rarely make sense the first time you hear them. What did you dream?

I'm walking on a mountain path and it's gray and snowing and then— He stopped and gulped a few breaths. Then I hear the most beautiful music.

Beautiful music is scary? Sabiana broke in scornfully.

Harrel frowned at her. Shush, don't make it harder for him.

Feren scrubbed at his face with his palms. But that's just it. The music is frightening. The loveliest I've ever heard. But in the dream, I'm afraid. It grows louder and louder until the mountain in front of me turns into a shining city, all blue and gold. The music is beautiful, the city is beautiful, and I'm terrified. I want to run, to hide in the dirt, but I can't move, can't breathe. I'm trapped, staring at this impossible city and trying to scream and… and that's when Harrel comes and wakes me up. He trembled, his arms clutched around his chest. What does it mean, Holiness?

She wished she had some easy answer for him. If someone could explain them, Feren's dreams often stopped, but he deserved the truth.

I don't know yet, dearest. She hurried on when he dropped his gaze to the table. Now you've told me, though, and I can search for an answer. No one has ever built a city in the mountains, so the mountain must have some other meaning. I'll consult the oracle tonight and then meditate on your dream, and on what she tells me. In the meantime, I'll give you something to help you sleep more deeply, so you don't dream. It may be difficult to wake in the morning, but Harrel can dump you in the water trough if you have too much trouble.

Feren heaved a long sigh and nodded, the gentle teasing lost on him but not on Harrel. He saluted Marya. I will always endeavor to do your bidding to the best of my ability, Holiness.

Marya swatted at him. That does not mean you are to dump him in the water whenever you please, you rascal! Don't you dare misinterpret what I said.

Grinning, he bowed with his hands crossed over his heart and answered solemnly, As your Holiness commands.

Sabiana laughed and Marya shook a finger at her. And don't you encourage him!

Feren picked at his food and even managed to eat a bit. At Marya's questioning glance, he shot her a crooked smile. I'm fine, Holiness. I do feel better now that I've told it. It's just I don't know why I waited so long.

His reluctance puzzled Marya as well. She had raised them almost from birth and Feren and Harrel had served as her personal bodyguards for three years now. They had gone to the Mother Prelate and requested the position on bended knee. At the time, they were sixteen and not quite finished training, but Marya, who felt uncomfortable with most other men, accepted them without question. The temple guards assigned to the priestesses were mostly ceremonial, a privilege of rank. For those rare times, though, when there was actual danger, when a bodyguard was necessary, she trusted them as she would no one else. A lifetime of trust lay between them and Feren had hesitated to speak to her.

* * * *

The sun had begun to tint the city in soft colors when they left the temple compound, morning duties complete. High on the hillside, the morning light painted the undulating domes of the royal residence a faint pink against the gleaming white of the watchtower spire. A lingering mist clung to the pools and lush greenery of the private gardens. Birds called from every perch and nook in the city it seemed, and the air felt fresh and clean after the rain the night before.

A glorious day, as if Alia had just created the world, one that would be squandered shut inside with a reluctant student.

Both of her guards had strapped on the gleaming ceremonial armor worn outside the temple, breastplates worked in intricate patterns of intertwining gold leaves, helmets topped with the absurdly large, golden world-serpent crests. Not the practical armor worn in combat, the ceremonial armor's function was visibility. Even Marya, short as she was, would never be able to lose them on a crowded street. Harrel placed himself at her right shoulder and walked beside her, trying to appear nonchalant, but he seemed desperate to speak, bouncing on his toes, unwilling or unable to begin without invitation.

Marya smiled, thinking if she waited much longer, her young companion would burst, so she finally asked, What is it, dearest? What do you need to ask me?

Harrel struggled to keep the smile from his face and turned toward her without breaking stride, the sun glinting off his ornate helmet. Holiness, would you declare a holiday, for us and his grace? It's too beautiful today, the heir will be restless and distracted from his studies, and Feren and I could use the time in the practice yard. The heir would be overjoyed, we would be sharpening our skills to serve you better and you would be… relieved.

He spread his hands and abandoned the formal tone for one she knew well from his childhood. He gave her his brightest smile and wheedled, Mother Marya, please? Just today and I'll never ask again.

She patted his armored shoulder and laughed, Trust you, my dear, to say plainly what everyone else is thinking. It pains me to say so, but no. I won't allow a holiday today. The heir's confirmation is much too close and he still has so much to learn before his journey to the basilica. Marya squinted sideways. Lift your head a bit, dear, please, if you're going to walk next to me. The glare off that helmet is blinding.

Harrel complied, though he still managed a downcast expression.

However, I do agree the two of you are growing fat and lazy and need the practice. I'm perfectly safe within the residence, and there's no reason why I shouldn't send you down to Crollus while I instruct the heir. I have every confidence he'll work you so hard, you'll beg to come back inside to me. I'll ask Crollus to stand firm though. He won't be allowed to let you rest until I send for you. Is that understood?

Yes, Holiness! Harrel's enthusiasm bubbled over.

She turned her head to the other side. Feren, did you hear? I'm going to allow the two of you to beat each other black and blue rather than force you to listen to my tedious lessons.

Holiness? Feren sounded distracted and perplexed. I'm sorry, I wasn't listening.

Once inside the residence, she stopped Crollus in the grand entrance hall to speak to him about taking Harrel and Feren in hand for the day. Crollus served the Ktar's household as both captain of the guard and arms master. A stocky, graying veteran, his voice consisted of only two pitches: a soft, courteous murmur, and a thunderous bellow. Marya thought it was due to his service as an artillery officer for so many years. Old artillerymen often had damaged hearing. Still, she found the man intimidating and spent as little time with him as possible.

Happy to put the young pups through their paces for you, Holiness. Keep 'em out of trouble for you, he responded quietly to her request. Then he turned to her guards and bellowed in a voice loud enough to vibrate the paving stones under Marya's feet, Out! Out into the yard, you young whelps! And get rid of that ridiculous parade armor before you start!

Harrel, his nervous energy at its peak, bounded out to the practice yard. Feren followed at a more dignified pace.

Please keep a close eye on Feren today, Captain, Marya said, voicing her concern. He hasn't quite been himself this morning, and I'd rather he didn't collapse from exhaustion out there.

The boy does look a bit peaked, Crollus agreed. But it's probably nothing a little honest hard work won't cure. I'll watch him, Holiness, never fear.

When he had stalked off out of earshot, Sabiana tugged on her superior's sleeve. Holiness? May I go out to the yard as well? You don't need me today, do you?

You mean, can you go stare in admiration at Harrel for a few hours? When Sabiana blushed bright red, Marya shook her head. No, you may not. It's not proper for a girl your age to be seen mooning so obviously after a young man. Besides, the place for a priestess in training is the library, not the practice yard. You will be called upon to teach someday soon and you must learn all you can before being faced with so challenging a student as his eminence's son.

They found the pupil in question, the Ktaret Jovan Ilianis Terratus ke Yanis na Elunia, glaring out one of the high, star-shaped library windows. The window stood open and had the added misfortune of overlooking the practice yard.

Already, the clacking of wooden blades and Crollus's bellows of encouragement and criticism drifted up to the third floor window. Marya joined the heir for a moment to see her two young friends attacking each other with fierce abandon.

Marya smiled, remembering her boys as tiny babies. Foundlings, left on the temple steps on the same summer night and thrust into the arms of the young acolyte Marya. She had been terrified and had protested she knew nothing about little boys. But Harrel gazed up at her fearlessly with his bright black eyes and Feren gripped the curled forefinger of her crippled left hand, and she had been charmed. She had raised them as her own and they were brothers in all but birth, an inseparable pair. Feren was more reserved and serious than Harrel. Marya had at one time hoped that he would become a scholar, but Harrel had always longed to be a soldier in the service of the temple. Where Harrel went, Feren followed.

They were easy to distinguish, even from this height, Feren with his brighter, close-cropped hair and Harrel with his long, dark waves escaping the band that was supposed to hold them back. A dangerous vanity, his hair. Most of the guards chose to cut their hair short for practical reasons. It was cooler with one's head stuffed under a heavy helm all day. They had yet to convince Harrel to shear off that thick, black mane. She tsked when he stopped to shake it out of his eyes again only to receive a stunning blow to the side of his head for that moment's distraction.

Ha! Did you see, Holiness? Jovan beat his hand against the windowsill, caught up in the sparring below. He'll have Harrel disarmed any second now!

Your grace, I'm afraid I must insist we begin now.

The ruler-to-be flung himself away from the window, frustration in every line of his body. At almost sixteen, he was nearly as tall as Harrel, broad-shouldered and powerful. He was also hotheaded and bad tempered. Marya backed out of harm's way and waited patiently for the explosion. Luckily, today's outburst was verbal rather than physical. In previous tantrums, he had destroyed over half of the library's furniture.

Why, Holiness? he shouted, flinging his arms wide. Why do you shut me inside on such a glorious day? What help is all this to me? He jerked a hand at the books and papers on the long table. History, tax laws, philosophy, these are useless! The very reason we have scholars and priestesses. If I'm to be a good ruler, I need to be out there! One finger stabbed furiously at the window. I need to be strong! How else does a ruler keep his throne?

His chest heaved, his face flushed with rage, but he had run out of his limited supply of words.

Battle is necessary for the conqueror, the sword for the ruler under siege, she offered. But for the rest of the time, a ruler must govern. You will always have advisors to assist you, but how will you know good advice from bad if you don't know what actions previously brought disaster? How can you be sure you are just if you don't know the law? How can you win the hearts and loyalty of your people if you don't understand what they believe? Your father understands this. No one has ever questioned his rule.

Jovan stood his ground. They fear his power, his strength at arms! That's why no one's ever rebelled against him!

Your grace, the history books are full of Ktars with military strength that still had rebellions during their reigns. Fear does not hold a people together in times of crisis. Watch the next time your father sits in judgment, the next time he addresses his troops. Tell me what you see in the eyes of his court, his people, and his soldiers. If it's fear, I will admit I was wrong and never attempt to teach you another thing. I believe instead, you will see respect and love.

The young man sank into a chair, slouching until his head rested against the carved back. His posture admitted defeat, but not graciously, and anything she tried to teach today would be a struggle.

She perched on the arm of the next chair and shook him by the arm. However, I'm not as cruel and heartless as you think. If you will apply yourself to actually learning something this morning—she held up a warning finger as his head snapped up—to my satisfaction, you may take the afternoon in the practice yard, and show my brave Feren and my bold Harrel what strength at arms means.

Truly, Holiness?

Truly, your grace. She smoothed his tousled hair back. It would be unjust of me to allow two of the restless young men in my charge the privilege of bashing each other's heads in and deny the third.

Marya proceeded with the history lesson she had planned. The heir paid such close and enthusiastic attention that he did ask about Jeran's motives, as she'd hoped. Why hadn't she thought of this before? Instead of trying to keep Jovan's attention for most of the day, she should tutor half the day with the promise of sparring rounds in the afternoon if the lessons went well.

Released from the tortures of learning, her pupil strode out of the library with as much dignity as he could muster before breaking into a run just outside the doorway. Jovan wasn't a bad youngster, but he had always been impatient and restless. At best, his attention wandered, and at worst, he had violent fits of temper that had become more hazardous as he grew taller and stronger. The success of this new approach would depend on whether Feren and Harrel would agree to regular afternoon pummelings. What Jovan lacked in style and experience, he made up in sheer brute force.

She joined Sabiana at the window again. Someone had urged Harrel to braid his hair back and he now faced Jovan without that added distraction. He kept his larger opponent on the defensive and struck with the long, hollow practice sword in swift, complex combinations. Each time, he danced out of reach, before the heir could use his greater weight and strength to his advantage.

For all his foolishness, the boy is good at what he does. But he and Feren had been at it all morning. Exhausted, Harrel soon misjudged. Jovan struck him hard across the ribs. The practice blade broke in two with a sharp crack and the pieces flew to opposite corners of the yard as Harrel dropped to one knee.

Sabiana gasped and Marya shook her head in annoyance. There wasn't any cause for alarm. Feren helped his friend up, and Jovan apologized frantically for the excessive blow.

No harm done, your grace. Harrel patted the heir on the shoulder. The wood must've been cracked. Then he turned to Feren and declared cheerfully, Your turn!

Marya drew Sabiana away from the window, back down the steps, and out to the colonnade between the gardens. A quiet and restful spot, ornamental shrubs and brilliant flowers surrounded softly splashing fountains and mirror-still reflecting pools.

The priestess and her pupil walked in silence until Sabiana asked, Holiness, why did you bring me out here?

Because there is something I have to say to you that I'd rather not have overheard. Marya stopped at a li bush with crimson flower spikes. Your actions in regard to Harrel have become thoughtless, foolish, undisciplined, and selfish. I'm not so idiotic as to forbid your infatuation with him—

It is not infatuation! Sabiana cried out indignantly.

Well then, you would tell me you love him, I suppose. Call it what you like. Neither you nor I can help how you feel, but your feelings are misplaced and you can only cause harm by pursuing them. You will be a priestess; you cannot become involved with a sworn temple soldier. You would lose your place in the order and Harrel would be turned out of the temple, stripped of his honor and his livelihood. Is that what you want for him? Someday, there will be a young scholar or a knight from another holy order to catch your eye, but for now, you must try to put these feelings aside. At least be more discreet about them. Anyone walking by can see you staring after him like some lovesick innkeeper's daughter.

What would you know about love? the young woman snapped. You never married. You've probably never even looked at a man!

Marya dropped her gaze to her crippled, withered left hand before answering. Indeed, no one would think of marrying her, though priestesses often did marry. Her hand was an ill-omened affliction, dreadful luck to any man who would be her husband. Do not presume, my dear, that because I never married, that I've never been in love.

Sabiana hands flew to her mouth. Oh, Mother Marya! Please forgive me! I didn't mean it. I've just been so confused lately, it's so hard to think and Harrel, he… he doesn't even know I exist.

He does. He's very protective of you. But he thinks of you as much younger even though only three years separate you. You're like a little sister now. The distance in age will seem less as you grow older and then the heavens help you both if he does start to notice you that way. I don't wish to see you hurt now, and I will not stand by and see him hurt later. Please, for your sake and his, concentrate on your studies and your meditations, don't pursue this. Marya pulled the now sobbing girl into her arms and added, In time, it will get better.

Has it for you?

Yes. Marya wiped the tears away. Yes, it has.

True enough, the loneliness had faded over the years, the knowledge that no one would ever love her hurt less. She had her studies,