TIME CONQUERS ALL
Book One
PJ Hultstrand
Az Publishing Services, LLC
Mesa, Arizona, USA
Time Conquers All
First edition copyright © 2009 by PJ Hultstrand
All rights reserved
Published by:
Az Publishing Services, LLC
6020 N. 77th Place
Scottsdale, Arizona 85250
Cover design by Patti Hultstrand
Smashwords Edition 1, December 2009
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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This book is my first born and is dedicated to my first born son,
Maxwell Hultstrand
Acknowledgements
I’ll get the obvious and most important thanks out of the way first – Thanks special thanks to Jean and Bob, for believing in me and telling me that I could do anything I set my mind to do. And I always thank God because it’s through Him that I have been given the bountiful talents, defining who I am.
Now for those who helped with the editing and proof reading while producing this book: Rosemarie, who was not only there at the beginning of this book process, but made me fight to keep some of the words I thought were important, but in retrospect, may not have been after all. To Linda and Tonya, who had the back end with the editing of the galley proofs. Thanks to the East Valley Writing Group and Don, who read some of the book and liked it enough to encourage me, and for asking to read the whole story. Here it is!
Would also like the thank Wayne and Linda for getting into book printing, allowing me to affordably publish.
I would also like to thank Ray Bradbury, my first love in science-fiction and the inspiration of my very first short story way back in junior high school. I submitted that first story in the local library sci-fi magazine, and it had been accepted. The writing bug bit me way back in the ninth-grade and I’ve been infected with this desire to write every since.
Preface
There can be many factors that define who we are or become, but certain events in your life impact you so heavily that there is no coming back from them unchanged. I had a series of events that impacted more than just myself, it changed my entire family structure and my belief system.
I won’t retell everything that happened, but the highlight which triggered this book to come to pass.
Back in 2003, I almost died from an infection due to complications of an operation. Such close calls really change your perspective and you can’t help but review your direction in life. I came home from my third hospital stay, finally eradicating the infection, but leaving me forever scarred. Physically, I shall never be the same.
I found a discarded story and a palace map tucked under the debris that comes from years of pack-rat organizing. The story was typed on a dot-matrix printed, track fed paper, yellowed from at least a decade of storage. The story of Parker and Tia had been started. At the time, I didn’t know the story had anything to do with time-travel or where the location of the story was destined to park itself.
Amazing how Parker stayed the same in my head, but Tia had changed as much as I had. She changed to Tamea (pronounced Tame - said like the word, and ends with a short a; Tame-a). All these years of reading speculative fiction of all types and my adoration for physics and time-travel in particular, has made “Time Conquers All” the epic story it has become.
I sat down after my near death experience and in six months, wrote 296,000 words. Then, I stopped and said, “Holy Crap, this has to be cut into several books, because they will never sell like this. The book you have in your hands is Book One of a very lengthy epic story that spans generations.
To see the synopses for what I have planned, please visit http://www.timeconquersall.com.
“The clock of life is wound but once,
and no man has the power
to tell just when the hands will stop,
at late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own.
Live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in time.
For the clock may soon be still.”
– Anonymous
*****
Chapter 1
The low rumble from behind startled her, just as the foreign surroundings put her senses on full alert. With a dagger already in her hand, Tamea quickly turned to meet this new threat while the sound grew in intensity. As the ground beneath her growled in anticipation, she noticed a bend in the road, next to a building clearly marked “GAS.” These vibrations, in the form of forty or more machines with people riding singly and in pairs, invaded onto the property.
Since Tamea harbored a general curiosity for all machines, she did not fight the compulsion to follow the direction her instincts dictated. She squinted to get a better look at the metallic apparitions as the sunlight bounced off the surfaces. Even though she had no first-hand experience with these machines, she did not seem to fear them. Something had called to her from her past, back to this building and these machines.
Tamea sheathed her dagger at the small of her back, as she made her way across the street. Some of the riders remained outside attending to their machines, while others had gone inside the building. She examined the machines, wanting to touch their smooth and glistening forms. They were different shapes and sizes, but most seemed to bear the same name and symbol, a shield with a banner across the middle. She wondered if this symbol signified their country, bearing its name, much like a military unit.
She scanned the machines, each in turn, gliding through their presence. Tamea felt a prickle on the back of her neck as she passed one particular machine. Moving back to it, the compulsion grew to an intense desire to touch its deep burgundy finish. Her pulse quickened and her instincts grew more aware. She could not explain why a machine would make her giddy with excitement. She was devouring the machine as she would a man, taking in its features with her eyes and feeling its textures with her fingers in a form of communication as old as time. There had been only one man she had ever scrutinized in this manner, getting to know his intimate details and communicating with her fingertips in place of words.
Then her heart skipped several beats when she came upon more identifiable markings on this machine. Under the national symbol of HARLEY-DAVIDSON was a name in light gray lettering, “PARKER”. Her fingers followed each letter as if they were embossed on her heart.
“You know, it’s considered rude to touch someone’s bike without permission,” a man said in an even tone, not giving away how he really felt about the implied offense.
Tamea swung around in surprise as her hand moved quickly to the dagger stashed at the middle of her back. She found him standing behind her with a glass bottle in his hand. Her lips parted slightly at the familiar sight of his face, with those endless blue eyes that could look deep into her soul. Even though she knew every crevice of his body, she had not been prepared for the attack on her senses. His blue pants seemed glued to his muscular thighs. He allowed her the pleasure of following his lines up his backside as he walked past her to throw out the empty bottle.
The dangling fringe attached to the edges of his black jacket moved freely as he turned and moved back to his bike. Wavy, sandy-blond hair softly touched the nape of his neck. His hips were lean and his body flared up into an expansive chest.
Tamea’s hand had been frozen on the partially extracted dagger in the hidden sheath at her lower back. She secured the weapon as she moved out of his way so he could swing one of his muscular legs over the bike, straddling it possessively between his thighs. At that moment, Tamea craved to be that bike.
She tried to display genuine affection for the machine instead of the man. “I have this instinct to touch beautiful pieces of machinery.”
His answering smile moved up into his eyes and aroused within Tamea, deep feelings she had closed off, reminding her again she was indeed a woman.
There had been something in the way she made this comment, as if it could be personal and not about his bike at all. His eyebrows rose in challenge and so did he. “Since my bike is a lady, she may not appreciate your attentions.” He had a fleeting thought he shouldn’t be encouraging such interest.
Parker noted the worn out backpack strapped to her back and the lost look in her eyes. He took a guess and asked her, “Why are you all alone?” The question instantly increased the tension in her demeanor.
“I am looking for someone,” she offered, then smiled woodenly.
“Really,” he started to display interest in her story, especially since this wasn’t what he expected to hear. “Let me get some gas in my bike and you can tell me all about it.”
Tamea was sure she would not be able to tell him all about it. He did not seem to know who she was, and he did not seem to be any older than when she had married him.
Parker moved the bike with practiced precision. The effort, showing off his leg muscles through the material of his pants, made her mouth water.
She watched how nimble and graceful his hands were as they performed their tasks. Her hand went to her throat and her vision glazed for a moment. She imagined how graceful those hands had felt on her body.
Parker had noticed she watched every move he made and an equal curiosity flared inside him. He was definitely aware of her sexual interest in him and he found his interest in her to be just as keen. That scar seemed familiar to him, as if he should remember something important about how she had acquired it. His mind raced as he tried in vain to remember her.
Parker scanned the rest of her while he continued to fill his tank. She was shorter than his six-foot one stature by five or six inches. She wore a form fitting cotton shirt with polyester pants that clung to her intense curves but flared at the calves, as was the current style. Her light, walnut brown skin spoke of some eastern origins, perhaps India or thereabouts. Her muscles were well defined from use, including shoulders that were broader than most women’s. Her hair was very closely cropped, which wasn’t the current style for American women. He noted when their eyes met, she didn’t shy away from his gaze. She stood proud and self-assured. Her level stare made him only more aware of her presence.
His only problem with her interest in him was her age. She was much too young for him. He pulled his jacket off, because the afternoon sun and her stare were plastering the black leather to his body.
For Tamea, it was sheer torture not being able to drag him away from that bike and into an embrace. The breath caught in her throat as he removed his jacket revealing the thin white cotton shirt underneath. He pulled a pouch out of the jacket and pushed it into his back pocket. She licked her lips at the remembrance of what lay under that back pocket.
He smiled again and asked, “I’m sorry, have we met somewhere before? I keep getting a distinct feeling of déjà vie whenever I look at you.”
How was she going to answer that one? She optioned for, “You know, I get the same feeling about you!”
“Maybe I know your parents,” Parker stated mildly. He wondered again about her age.
Tamea noted his gaze had turned slightly chilly. “Parents? No, my father died when I was ten years old and my mother does not live in this country.”
A slight smile pulled at one corner of his mouth in amusement over the accuracy of his guess on her origins. “I guess you’re definitely not from around here, then?” Parker sensed she was being purposely elusive and he wondered why, but this thought left his mind when she delivered her next enticement.
“What gave me away?” Tamea looked down at herself and spread her arms wide so he could get a better look at her. She wondered now whether she had stolen the wrong type of garments from the locals. Clothes could set her apart and prevent blending into this culture. She was usually good at picking appropriate attire for infiltration purposes.
As Parker appraised her figure, somehow his instincts told him she was out of place. Her mystery and the way her fingers strummed across her generous hips drew his interest whether he liked it or not. “Have you been hiking it?” he indicated the pack on her back.
Tamea was not sure what he meant by this, since the term “hiking it” was not among her learning of English; she mainly spoke Cantonese and French. She thought it would be safer to agree. “Yes, I have been hiking it.”
On the bike now, Parker leaned back casually while gripping the handlebars, allowing her a better view of his sleek lines, from forearms to groin, where her eyes halted their steamy perusal.
Considering where her attention was centered, she laughed when he casually asked her, “Would you like a ride?” It could be somewhat of a thrill to be able to start this game over again, especially when he did not remember this recreation had already been played before and they had both won. Since he had been the one she had been searching for, she approved his suggestion, no matter how it was interpreted. She answered, “Sure, that would be great.”
He also laughed in his excitement of how this day was turning out and at his own boldness with this younger woman. “We’ll see how it works out, okay?” He suddenly caught the scent of her as she shifted the pack on her back, bringing her body closer for the few seconds it took. The sweet, sugary scent of her aroused his interest further and pricked at his memory again. A sharp pain lanced through his head, but just as quickly, it was gone, along with the memory it was attached to.
Parker gazed at her more closely as he wondered again about her age. She appeared too young to be playing this sort of sport. Curiosity won as he asked, “By the way, how old are you?”
Their eyes locked in a sudden struggle. Tamea had forgotten about his problem with their wide age bracket. “You are concerned about my age?” She would have reminded him she had killed men far older than him in her life, but she did not think this would be a plus in her favor just now.
“I just want to make sure it’s legal to be seen with you. I’m much older than you”--his tone turned frosty--”or are you used to hitting on older men?”
Tamea did not like the direction of this conversation. Her voice rose in sudden agitation. “Look, as a rule, I do not hit on men! Besides you are definitely not old enough to be my grandfather, so I do not think you are robbing the cradle or anything!” She could see the warmth come back into his face and his smile widened with his growing interest. “Now, is the offer of a ride still good, or should I go hit on another old man?”
Parker answered, “Yes, the offer is still good. But aren’t you going to miss that person you were looking for?”
She grinned from a knowledge she concealed while answering, “No, I am quite sure I will not!” She watched him start the machine with his foot on a lever near its base.
While he started up the bike, Parker was curious about how she could so easily drop what she’d been doing before they met and how she could simply drop whoever she’d been looking for. But then he remembered her age and the free-loving generation she was inherently a part of.
Parker moved forward on his Harley, allowing her room behind him. “Then hop on,” he said, and felt her comply as she swung her leg around the bike and fit herself snugly against his back. The moment their bodies touched, an electrical response rippled through him. His hardened arousal for this young woman was staggering, making his form-fitting blue jeans suddenly much too tight. He straightened his legs for a moment, hoping to readjust himself. He could see some of his group of bikers watching and even grinning at his choice of riding partners. Parker had the distinct feeling this young woman was infinitely more dangerous than her age should have allowed. If he had known then that she also carried throwing knives and several daggers in special belts attached to various parts of her body, he probably would have made an excuse not to take her along.
Parker sat back and bit his lip as the electrical charge whipped through him again when she had laid her hands intimately on his hips. Other bikers were also preparing to leave, so he had to yell over the intense barks as the other Harleys started up. Turning his head to the side, he told her the plan for the day. “We’ll stop for dinner and crash for the night when we reach Flagstaff, where our group here will be meeting up with the bikers from Arizona. Let me know beforehand if you need to stop along the way so I can find a good place. Okay?”
Tamea reached up and patted his shoulder while nodding her head in understanding. Her desire for him was heady as she let her fingers slide down his back, making her grow hot in anticipation. When his body stiffened and rippled in response to her touch, she had been glad to discover she had not been alone in her craving.
Settling back for the ride, Tamea consciously avoided any further sexual overtures so they could get some miles on the road. She enjoyed the wind on her face, simply sharing this moment with him. The empty terrain of the Painted Desert turned into pine forests as they raced southward, in and out of the San Francisco Peaks. This off-beat route through Arizona heading for Las Vegas was not typically traveled, but was definitely picturesque. They were well inside Arizona as the sun began its descent. When they came to the railroad town of Flagstaff, she could smell the pine trees in the air that held the promise of a crisp, early winter.
Parker meant to stop briefly at the local Denny’s along with several other bikers. He maneuvered up next to another couple, Jim and Felicia, as they got off their bike. Parker stated, “I’m going to go check in at the lodge and we’ll come back to eat.”
Tamea was starving but did not plan on complaining about it. The other woman took pity on her instead.
“Parker, where’s your manners? Your new friend is probably famished. Come and eat with us now. You’ll have her alone soon enough,” stated Felicia.
Parker reddened slightly at the suggestion he was being that transparent--or was she just guessing? “Well, then I leave it up to my riding partner.” He looked back at Tamea and found her already getting off the bike. His eyes rephrased the question as to what she would rather do first, eat or go find their room.
Tamea wanted nothing more than to get him alone in bed, except perhaps, for the opportunity of finding a place to relieve herself. She thought her bladder would explode from the constant vibrations of the bike. Just to let him know she was still interested, so he would not get any ideas about abandoning her, she leaned her breasts into his arm as she gave him a peck on the cheek. She whispered into his ear, “I will meet you inside.” After seeing his slow grin, meant only for her, she knew he had gotten the point and quickly ran inside.
When Tamea returned to the restaurant’s main dining room, she easily found the three of them. The waitress had waited to take her order. She had no idea what a hamburger was, so she ordered something she knew, steak and brown rice with fresh greens.
Parker watched her order and wondered where she was going to put all that food. He felt bad now for not stopping sooner to feed her.
As they waited for their food, Jim and Parker talked about old times, the open road and what they planned to do in Vegas. Felicia talked about shows she wanted to see and of course, they all talked about the main reason they were going to Vegas in the first place. They were going to a concert by something called the “Grateful Dead.”
Tamea just listened and did not bother to interject anything, because she had no clue what most of it meant. An uncomfortable understanding dawned on her; this is what would continue to happen if she stayed with him. She knew nothing about his life here and her English was still very limited. She suddenly felt left out of his world.
As they ate, Parker talked about music and about playing the guitar with such passion she almost wished she had not found him at all. Did she have the right to take him away from this life?
Parker noticed she hadn’t added anything to the conversation. He glanced at her just in time to see a small tear, she quickly blinked away from the corner of her eye. Her demeanor had changed from intent listening to somber depression. It radiated out of her so much Parker wanted to take her into his arms and make it go away.
As Jim argued with Felicia about which casino they would stay at in Las Vegas, Parker focused his attention on his riding partner. He realized he didn’t know her name. How odd it was to feel something for her when he knew nothing about her. He touched her arm, running two fingers along her forearm. He got her full attention by taking her hand up to his mouth and kissing each fingertip in turn.
Tamea stared at him in remembrance of this intimate gesture he had used on her many times. The butterflies in her stomach brought back memories of other moments they had shared.
His friend, Jim, also noticed the intimate exchange and started to hassle his usually celibate friend. “So, Parker. What do you think you’re doing picking up such a young chick--you haven’t even introduced her?”
Felicia punched Jim in the arm. “Leave him alone. I don’t think she’s as young as she looks.” She laughed as Parker stared back in embarrassment at them both.
Tamea helped him out by offering her name. “My name is Tamea. And Felicia is right. I am not as young as I look. I thank you for the compliment.”
Felicia was quick to state the honest truth. “You better be careful Parker. This one might actually snatch up that heart of yours. And it’s about time someone does.”
“Felicia, I think I’ll take Tamea out of here before you scare her away with your ideas,” stated Parker.
He tried out her name in his head and some elusive memories began to flood his mind. Deep inside his consciousness, alarms were shrieking along with that sudden pain which wasn’t receding quite so quickly this time. When the pain left once again, so did the memories. Like water in his hands, he just couldn’t hang onto any of them.
Parker rose and leaned over to kiss Felicia on the cheek, then he shook Jim’s hand and added, “I’ll see you both at the concert on Saturday. We’ll go out afterwards.”
Jim blurted out, “But that’s in three days. I thought we could go out gambling when we got into town. What are you planning on doing for three days?” Felicia punched him for his stupidity. “Oh!” He got the meaning as he rubbed his ribs.
Parker paid for their meal, took Tamea’s hand and led her out into the early evening.
As Tamea leaned into him, she put her arms around him possessively. She did not plan to make it to Las Vegas, having decided tonight would be their last. She did not plan to give him time to fall in love with her again, even if it meant leaving him after only one night. It may have been selfish on her part, but all she wanted was one more night alone with him and then she would leave.
Enjoying the way she clung to him, he thought again about the feeling they had met before. Parker was still no closer to solving the mystery surrounding her. Something felt so right about the way she fit against his back.
She was thankful now that she had taken his leather jacket when he put it around her shoulders before they got on the bike. From what Parker said, the lodge was out of the way, further up into the mountains, where it got quite chilly at night. When winter actually hit, the place would be packed with avid snow skiers.
They parked under the veranda outside the lodge. While Parker checked in, Tamea enjoyed the beauty and serenity, staring down the mountain at the lights of the town twinkling back up at her.
Suddenly she caught a slight movement in the trees just beyond the parking lot. Instinctively, she felt--more than she saw--someone watching her from a tree-darkened hiding place. She reached down to her calf belt and transferred one of her daggers to the inside sleeve of Parker’s leather jacket, making certain whoever it was clearly saw the gleam of the dagger’s steel.
Parker came out, smiling, and held up their room key.
Tamea smiled back and leaned in to boldly kiss him, taking his mouth in blatant disregard for whoever was watching.
Liking the promise of things to come, Parker started up the bike again and moved them closer to their room.
Tamea scanned for the presence and instinctively knew it was stalking them. The dagger hilt rested in her left palm, ready if it was needed. Her intentions included getting him into the room and making love to him for the rest of the night. She did not appreciate whoever was interrupting her plan. She continued to glance behind them after they got off the bike and Parker retrieved his saddlebags.
The attack did not come from any hand-to-hand exchange. Multiple gunshots fired from an unseen assailant, out of reach for Tamea’s dagger. Even her throwing knives were useless at that distance.
Parker went down, his blood splattered onto the black leather jacket she wore. He tore at her body on his way to the ground, pulling her with him as she realized the utter uselessness of her metal weapons. If she had her crossbow, it may have been different. She was helpless in saving him from bleeding onto the ground.
“No!” she screamed at the hidden assailant. The question that followed came out in flawless Cantonese. “Who the hell are you to take his life this way?”
His assassin had heard Tamea’s question and had understood it, even in that foreign tongue, but was disinclined to show her what she was up against. The sniper had not been worried about her shooting him back, because her only weapons would be bladed and small, allowing them to remain concealed. He also knew her range with the throwing knives, so made certain not to be exposed. This time he planned to beat them both by succeeding in killing Parker. He left her a calling card and melted back into the denser forest.
Tamea put her backpack under Parker’s head and ran in the direction the shots had come from within the trees. Her years of military training compelled her to locate the assassin. She moved through the foliage in a desperate need to lash out at whoever robbed her of the precious moments she planned to savor with Parker. But this was not how she wanted to leave him. Tamea wanted him to live out his life, as it was meant to be.
She followed the trail up to where it abruptly ended. Finding nobody, she turned back toward the parking lot. After taking a step or two, she caught a glimpse of something lying on the ground. It was a Cantonese version paperback book titled “The Time Machine”, by H.G. Wells. Carefully placed inside the front cover was the crucifix pendant Tamea had given Parker on their wedding day. Retracing her steps to the parking lot, she lifted the chain out of the book, looking at it closely in the parking lot’s fluorescent glow to make certain it was the same gift she had given him. Then she found something written in haste on the page she had found the crucifix.
“Time is relative! Things are not always as they seem, and neither am I! You will have many years of loneliness to ponder my meaning.” -- SKid
Tamea pushed both items into a pocket and ran back to where Parker lay alone, moving fitfully. She could not think straight when she looked down and surveyed the blood oozing out of the man she loved. He grabbed her by the front of his jacket, pulling her into a kiss. He pushed away from her only when blood began oozing from a corner of his mouth. She realized they had very little time left.
She replaced the backpack carefully with her lap and looked down into his eyes, which were fixed and dilated. Her voice came out on a single sob, as she tried not to cry. “Parker, it was not supposed to be like this. This vision has been distorted somehow.”
His eyes were glazing over as he said his last words. “Tamea, I do recognize you now! You’re my other half and would have been my only love.” He smiled weakly and made a promise to her. “We shall meet again someday.” Then he pulled her into another kiss. This one bloody and ending as the chilling touch of death took his lips from hers.
*****
She pulled out of the vision with a violent thrashing, bringing her back to the present--a time she knew and belonged in. Tamea’s eyes snapped open. She sat up in her bed and looked wildly about to get her bearings. The familiar surroundings of her palace suite and the candle service lights on her bedside table indicated she was back in the year 1587 in her country of Laie in Central Asia.
The ragged remnants of this vision still replayed in her mind. She knew somehow this had not been just a dream, but a place she had been able to tap into from deep within her own mind.
For the last several months she had been dreaming of a young man fighting a war in the future. As she had been resting in a semi-conscious state, this vision had floated to the surface and she recognized what could have been an older version of the young man from her dreams. She allowed herself to go into the visualization, playing these events. She wondered if somewhere along the fabric of time, there was a possibility she would meet him? Being an impatient sort of person, she wanted to meet him now, in 1587.
Tamea could see the reflective eyes looking back at her from the two cats at the end of her bed. They were different breeds entirely; one being a white longhaired housecat named Suet, meaning “Snow” in Cantonese; the other, a two hundred and seventy pound Bengal tiger, named Aspen, by the gypsy band who sold him to Commander Jayson when the tiger was a cub. They both gazed at her steadily, and Aspen growled low in question to Tamea’s sudden movements.
“I am fine. Just another dream,” she answered the tiger. “Although it was very odd; it seemed as if I could feel all the emotions and thoughts of the man in this dream.” She did not wish to elaborate since she could not explain the revelation to Aspen.
Tamea fell back onto her bed and worked on steadying her breathing. Only the key elements from this vision were sticking in her short-term memory. She remembered, and probably always would, how he had died in her arms, as she had not been able to save him.
There would be no going back to sleep after what she had just experienced. Besides, today would be a very long day for her. An armed force was due to arrive from their neighboring country of Altare, to be stationed in Laie to finalize the treaty with her country.
The palace staff would need her out of her suite to move her into the room adjoining the king’s, as his newly appointed personal guard, and Laie’s liaison to the visiting King of Altare. The council had made the decision, assigning her to this new position. She had to rework the floor plan on the ambassador’s wing of the palace to accommodate the King, his two brothers and now herself.
Tamea got up and scratched the tiger’s ear. “Sorry Aspen, I know you just got in from hunting, but you will have to get your rest later. We will leave in a few minutes to go see Jayson. Too many things to do, and even more things than usual on my mind this morning.”
For some reason she could not put her finger on, she felt something significant was about to happen. She got feelings like these sometimes. When they were bad, she felt a sense of foreboding. This felt more like nervous anticipation. With Commander Jayson’s added point of view, maybe they could find the source of this anxiety.
*****
Chapter 2
In a more disreputable part of Laie City, two men sat in a dingy tavern. One sat alone in a corner, apparently asleep from drinking too much that night. The other could be found very alert even at this late hour, when most of the city was asleep. Only a handful of taverns never bothered to close, since its customers were around the clock denizens of the city, who either drank all day and night, or needed to conduct business at all hours.
The alert Man needed the isolated and quiet hours of early morning to conduct his business. He sipped his tea, since he had never been a drinking man. His interests did not follow anyone else’s pattern, for he had his own set of rules in which he conducted his life. As a rule, he stayed clear of alcohol and women, having no liking for either, and some women he hated above the rest of their gender.
Being among the male minority in a predominately female country had its merits. He had been able to pick his interests and to rise quickly in his profession, even above most male counterparts in Laie. Being a man who did not get himself into trouble with booze or women, had allowed him the opportunity to be chosen for positions, which would prepare him for a future in politics or some other strategically appointed offices.
He already knew how to play the game of politics, which had been how he had risen above the pack so quickly. The Man allowed his momentary anger to show on his perfectly groomed face, at the thought of Altare’s intervention upon the political field. It was way too late in his career to be thwarted by the interference of the country of Altare and its predominately male royal family.
The Man had been awaiting his Contact in this hellhole of a tavern, since it would be as far from the palace as possible and located close to the harbor’s edge, where no one would be likely to recognize him. His Contact was late. Usually he did not tolerate tardiness, but tonight he felt generous. His relatively good mood extended for two reasons. One, being his Contact had successfully contracted one of the best assassins in Bengal, to take the job and tonight’s meeting would seal the details.
To pass the time, the Man had established a friendly conversation with the serving boy, having gleaned much information about the lad. The Man’s keen interest in the serving boy, employed in this rattrap of a tavern, had been the other reason for his apparent good mood. He sipped some more tea, then put the cup down. Pulling out his money pouch from his front pocket, he began to sift out a generous amount for the lad to ponder as he made his next suggestion, “Perhaps after I conclude my business, you could take a ride with me to my rooms in the city proper. We could talk some more about whether or not you will return to this dismal establishment. Perhaps you could stay the rest of the week to think about it and we will see how it works out.”
The boy looked so much like Captain Terance at that age, it actually hurt to think about it. Terance had been out of the Man’s influential grasp now that he had installed himself as the Captain of the Palace Guard. Terance thought himself in love with Princess Tamea, which made the Man hate her in the same intense passion for which he cared for the young Captain.
The Man had many reasons to hate this particular young woman. The highest reasons on his list, other than her influence on Terance, included her recent rise in rank in Laie’s armed forces. She was the protégé of Commander Jayson, which explained her quick rise in rank, since the Commander had political clout and popularity with the people of Laie.
The Man handed the serving boy the down payment for his intentions, just as his Contact made an appearance at the tavern door. The Man’s interest in his Contact had waned. Now that there were many men coming to town to be installed in Laie’s army from Altare, he no longer needed to keep the Contact around. He planned to snip the sexual ties tonight before he took his new servant boy home with him.
His Contact was eager, but much older than himself. While he did not worry about differences in age when it came to his interests, this Contact had outlived his function. The Contact sat next to him instead of across from him, and put his hand possessively over his as it laid on the table before him. The Man looked at the hand, then pulled it out of the intimate gesture. He asked the Contact evenly, “What do you have to tell me?”
The Contact had noticed the Man was all business tonight. He whispered, “He will do it for half up front for the assassination of the King of Altare, and an additional lump sum as a bonus if he and his two associates are able to snag the younger Altare brother, Prince Walker, as well.”
The Man thought about this for a few minutes. He had planned to just kill the King before he could marry Queen Suu-Naung. But lately, the council and the political factions in Laie were swerving toward the younger brother, Prince Walker, marrying their Princess Tamea, in order to sew up their two countries’ treaty. The Man could not let either one rule in Laie since he had been paid handsomely by Bengal in money, and promises of a high position with land, to ensure this did not happen. Bengal already planned to stage a war with Laie and wished to keep its predominately female armed forces and female royal power intact. He had made Sultan Jahmanan, ruler of Bengal, put their agreement in writing before he took any part in this act of treason, since that is indeed what it would be.
He calculated how much profit he would have after the assassins’ share of the spoils if they were successful in killing both the King of Altare and his brother. “Very good. Are they already in the city?”
“Yes, I just left them in an inn near the town center. They wanted to be close to the action when the King comes into town.” The Contact laughed at the intended pun.
The Man hastily asked, “They do not plan to attack during the procession through the city, do they?”
The Contact thought about this for a few seconds before answering, “I think their plan was to take them as they rode down the street toward the palace. Surely you know the route.”
Of course he knew the route--it had been planned by Princess Tamea and reported to the council just that morning. “That will not be possible since the Princess will be placing her Elite Force up and down that street and the assassins will have no idea who they are, since they will be in plain clothes. The assassins will not be able to get away even if they are able to snag their targets.” He already had a plan and surveyed the room before relaying it to his Contact. He noted the drunk in the corner no longer snored, but seemed to be drooling on the table, and the owner of the tavern and his serving boy had been indisposed in the back kitchen.
“I already have a plan to get them into the palace during the procession, while the majority of the palace guards are at the town center. I have a place to stash them until the end of the banquet tonight, and when the King leaves to go back to his suite, the assassins can be strategically placed and ready for the attack.” The only problem with the plan of getting them onto the palace grounds was, Captain Terance did not plan to go to the procession, so would be on duty at the palace. The Man would have to keep the young Captain busy, since he also did not plan to go.
The other problem with getting the assassins close enough to the visiting King and his brother, had been Princess Tamea’s assignment as the King’s personal guard. “If the Princess gets in the way, the assassins will have to neutralize her first in order to gain access to the King,” stated the Man.
The Contact frowned while stating, “I think they will ask for extra to take care of your princess.”
“You do not have to tell them who she is. Just tell them this visiting King has a female personal guard, who should not be taken for granted, or it could be their undoing,” he stated while scowling in irritation at the Contact. “Now let me explain the details so you can go relay them before they make unnecessary preparations for tomorrow.” This would be a good reason for the Contact to be on his way, instead of the planned night he had undoubtedly wanted.
*****
Chapter 3
Tamea and Aspen hunkered down, staying in the dark shadows of the outside block walls of the palace. They stalked its cold perimeter until they had to move, and stealthily, followed the garden bushes skirting the practice field. She had already passed four palace guards on the Commander’s watch. She could not wait to gloat because Commander Jayson had stated just last week, she would not be able to get past his people on the palace grounds. She would always sneak around inside the palace, regularly getting past Captain Terance’s guards. But when she made it into the queen’s chambers without being detected, Jayson had written the Captain up for his people’s lack of vigilance. Tamea tested the security while attempting to catch her mentor unaware of her approach.
Both sides of the palace wall, overlooking the palace grounds and the city proper, lay quiet in the predawn hours of the morning. It took Tamea several minutes to gain the steps leading up to the tower, one cautious step at a time.
As Jayson had his back to her, she glanced over the side to see what caught his attention. A drunk had been pressing advances on one of his female guards, until Jayson had heard the slang the drunk had used. Even though he was speaking their native tongue of Lai, it had been obvious he was not a native. With one signal from Jayson, two of his guards pulled the man into a discreet room to check him out.
Without turning, Jayson acknowledged Tamea’s presence. “You actually made it to the top of the stairs this time before giving yourself away to the guards. Paulte signaled me as you were creeping up behind me.”
Tamea stood frozen in place with her hand where his hair would have been if he had not turned to look at her.
“The warning was not needed though. I saw Aspen as he crept behind you by the palace wall. Although I have to admit I lost your progress after you made the bushes.” He laughed at her expression since she had obviously been holding her breath and just now thought to release it. “Next time, do not bring Aspen. He needs a bath. I could smell him at the top of the stairs.”
Aspen growled low and menacingly at the Commander as the tiger sauntered over to Tamea. “Aspen says he could smell you before we even began climbing the stairs.” Tamea laughed at them both.
The corners of Jayson’s mouth betrayed his amusement while he grunted an inaudible reply about tigers in general. The confidently tall Commander turned to view Tamea directly as he asked, “I suspect my people did not pass your test on the security?”
She cocked her head in the direction of the palace. “You can have your guards on the grounds report to me for the next week. They will just have to pull double duty. I should have tested them sooner, since we should not spare anyone out for training detail now.”
This left the question he had on his mind. “Then why test them tonight? Surely you could do better by getting the extra rest.” His heart tugged as he surveyed her eyes and could see the darkening circles betraying her lack of sleep.
“You know everything must be perfect for the arrival of Altare’s representatives and armed forces,” said Tamea, knowing darn well he could see past this reason. Jayson had been the only soul she had confided in after all these months of continuous dreams. They had both concluded she was sane and as always, there was a reason for everything. The answer would come only when the Lord decided it was time.
She looked around to make sure they were alone and would not be overheard. “I came to talk to you about something I just experienced. Something new has manifested itself tonight, beyond my usual dreams.”
Jayson knew of these futuristic dreams and he planned to always be there for her to talk to. “Come and keep me company and I will make us both some tea.”
Once inside the watchtower, Tamea sat, absently scratching Aspen’s cheeks and ears, while looking out the window toward her city.
Jayson sat across from Tamea, steeping their tea. “So, tell me about this manifestation.”
She took a deep breath before beginning. “I found something which had until now been hidden in my mind. A vision showed itself to me in my semi-conscious state.” She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand, cracking several neck bones in her attempt to relieve some of her tension, while she continued, “I recognized the young man from my dreams, but in this vision he was about twenty years older. Someone shot him with a multiple firing weapon.” She looked down briefly at her hands as she admitted her failure. “And I was not able to save him Jayson. He died in my arms.”
Jayson had been adding the honey to his tea when he sensed she had paused for some conclusions to be made by him. “How do you know this was not just another dream?”
Tamea grasped for the right words to describe her conclusions. “It felt different. I did not just witness it, like I would a prophesying dream; instead, I lived this vision as if it was happening at that moment. And even stranger, I could feel his emotions and hear his thoughts. I was there, Jayson. I could feel emotions and the warmth of his blood on my hands.” She looked down again at the hands she knew had been useless to save him.
“And this vision was also of the future?” he asked.
“Yes, but since he was older, he was no longer with his father in that war he had been fighting.” Her dreams of the young man always had him entrenched in a warlike setting with futuristic machines of intense destructive capabilities. “This vision was much more personal.” She paused, then added, “That is, before he was killed.”
Jayson thought he knew what she was not saying when she used the term ‘personal’. He sipped his tea and cautiously assessed the situation. “Well, as usual, you brought me something very interesting to think about.” Then he looked directly at Tamea and asked, “Why do you think this man has spilled into this vision?”
Now she was exasperated with him. “How am I supposed to know? That is why I came to talk to you. Obviously, I am being tormented for some offense. But then, you and my brother Almar do this enough without any help from some man I have never met.” She threw her hands up and got to her feet to pace the length of the tower room.
Jayson continued to watch out the window, sipping his tea. He knew she was not so young anymore. He had been watching her back for many years, and had watched her become the restless woman who paced the watchtower, like a caged tiger. He had children of his own, and even grandchildren for that matter. But, for some reason, Tamea just grew on him.
She eventually got tired of pacing and sat back down with a thump. Jayson decided to keep her mind off her troubles. With any luck, she would be so busy in the days ahead, she would be too exhausted to be bothered by any more visions or dreams. “So, have you reworked the rooms in the Ambassador’s wing and have they moved you into your new quarters yet?”
“Yes, I know what I want to do with the rooms, but no, I have not been moved yet.” She knew he was changing the subject, so she let the matter drop for now. “Make sure you are rescheduled from tower watch. I want you in the palace tonight. The delegation should be here by sunset. The banquet will begin a few hours after they are settled and I want you in that wing before the banquet begins. Terance will have his hands full inside the banquet room.” She paused and glanced down at the resting tiger. “I am sending Aspen out to check on the Altare delegation’s progress and to guard their approach until they get to the city’s gates. Afterwards, he will be out hunting.” She picked up her cup and was finally able to enjoy the taste of her tea. “As you know, both you and General Assam will be meeting them outside the city walls, so you better get some rest old man. It is going to be a long day and night for you.” Tamea grinned into her teacup while pretending she had not said anything offensive.
Jayson’s eyebrows rose at her attempt to score a hit on him, using his age as her offense. He volleyed her shot. “I guess you better make some breakfast for this old man then, or I may fall asleep on the job tonight and let some man into your new quarters.” Jayson added a winning smile to this retort. The smile worked every time.
“You would not dare send anyone into my room unawares. I would have to kill him in order to save my honor.” Tamea was trying to appear offended, but the smile at the corner of her lips would be hard to conceal.
“Honor? I am not sure what you have been saving yourself for, but to keep your female honor is not it, little lady.” He grinned in spite of knowing this kind of talk would not be tolerated in front of the Queen or the council, who would have said her honor would be worth the price in getting her married off. He had been listening to the talk for months now about matching her with Prince Walker of Altare, who was the same age she was. The Prince had also been the King’s second and Altare’s knighted champion. Jayson knew Tamea would not have any man unless she wanted him. He prayed it would be love and not her sense of duty to her country that got her into a marriage bed.
Tamea laughed in earnest now, making her way to his fire to make them a breakfast. “Little lady, now is it? Very well, old man!” she chided.
*****
Chapter 4
This council meeting was not like any other, due to its lack of Tamea’s presence. Her invitation to this special meeting had never gotten to her, because it had never been sent. This secret council meeting was being held hoping she would not find out, because the subject matter would be her and their designs on her future.
Prince Walker had left the marriage portion of the agreement open and Laie’s council members had been arguing behind her back over this matter for months since the Prince’s departure, and they had been no nearer to a solution. Many on the council wanted Tamea to marry Prince Walker, which would leave Laie intact. Tamea would become queen and rule as co-consort with Walker until Almar married one of Altare’s royal family members. Then Almar could take over as King of Laie and Tamea and Walker could return to his properties in Altare. This argument needed to be resolved since Altare’s delegation was arriving.
Father Renol was also present as the representative of the religious orders. He voiced his opinion to the council. “The Church and the religious orders usually condone arranged marriages within royal families, but this is not a normal circumstance. Princess Tamea is not just any princess and since she is not the heir, she is not prepared for a royal marriage. I know the strength of her will and her total belief, that only God can force her to do what she must. She allows the Lord to lead her life, not the council or anyone else.”
“But what of her sense of duty to her country and her family? Doesn’t that mean anything to her?” Sentinel Kiu had been the loudest in his opinion that Tamea should be forced to marry Prince Walker for the good of the country. His tall stature and political influence had swayed many of the council members into his corner. “When one is born into a royal family, as I know very well, one must assume the responsibilities of that birth. The only point I am not wholly agreed upon is that we should lose Tamea’s strategic command abilities and special gifts when Almar becomes king and Prince Walker takes her from us to live in Altare.” He shook his head at the others in the chamber. “I wish there was another way, but this will be the price we pay to keep our sovereignty and not give it up to the King of Altare.” He looked around and could see more council members were now in agreement with him. The only members frowning at this forced action was Father Renol, Commander Jayson and the Queen.
Commander Assam had given his position on the council to Colonel Lauder, since he detested these meetings in his old age, so had begun sending Lauder even before Altare had brought its treaty before the council. Lauder held a neutral mask, as usual, and the Sentinel could not read his thoughts.