Vankara (Book 1) Read online

  We walked over to the entrance of the room and saw a group of six women sitting around one of five tables laid out in a cross shape pattern. All of the women were in varying states of undress. A man clothed in the black leather uniform of the Queen’s guard was sitting amongst them shuffling a deck of playing cards with dexterous fingers. His dusty jacket was unbuttoned to the waist revealing what should have been a white undershirt, but it was stained a light brown from being exposed to too much sand and too little washing. His dark brown hair was long and unruly, and the thick beard covering his face made it difficult to discern his facial features. The only visibly attractive element to the man was a slight twinkle of amusement shining in his dark eyes.

  When I glanced down beside his chair, I saw a large pile of women’s clothing on the floor composed of mostly corsets, skirts and silk stockings. It certainly explained why the women around him were only a few garments shy from being completely devoid of what little propriety they had left.

  “I swear, John, yer a cheat!” A buxom blonde said, her right foot resting on top of the table while she rolled a black thigh-high silk stocking down her leg. She carelessly tossed it in the pile of clothes at the captain’s feet.

  “Now, Dora darlin’, just because I win a lot doesn’t mean I’m a cheat.” He looked at her with a lop-sided grin meant to be roguishly endearing. His intonation held the accent of the people who lived in the southern part of Vankara where they lingered over their words in a slow drawl. “I was just born under a lucky star is all.”

  “Yeah yeah yeah.” Dora rolled her eyes at him, feigning exasperation. “Did ya ever think to consider that maybe we just let ya win?”

  John Fallon’s grin grew wider revealing surprisingly white teeth. “Well then that would just prove my point. How many men would be lucky enough to find a group of lovely ladies willing to let a man beat them at anything?”

  “Ya got a point there, Johnny,” a brunette sitting beside him giggled. She was young and could have been pretty if it weren’t for the thick pasting of rouge on her cheeks and blood red lipstick attacking her lips. I assumed she was trying to look older than her years but instead conjured up the image of an out of place court jester.

  Gabriel cleared his throat gaining the attention of the ladies immediately.

  “Excuse me for interrupting,” he said.

  At the sound of Gabriel’s voice, the captain’s eyes snapped up from the deck of playing cards in his hands and rested on Gabriel with an openly hostile glare. The smile on his face vanished, quickly replaced by a steely set to his jaw. The captain slowly laid the deck of cards down on the table and sat back in his chair studying Gabriel with distrustful eyes before speaking.

  “What brings you all the way out here, Gabriel?”

  “The Queen needs to see you, Fallon. It’s urgent.”

  The captain crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair with a brooding look of contempt on his face, his eyes no longer laughing. “If it’s so damn urgent maybe she should have come here to talk to me in person.”

  “Her airship is anchored on the outskirts of town. She’s simply in no state to come in here personally or she would be standing in front of you instead of me.”

  The captain’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. It was obvious he hadn’t actually expected the Queen to be within walking distance.

  “What does she want?” He asked gruffly.

  “Just a word,” Gabriel said, cautious with his own, not wanting to overstate our real purpose for coming in front of mixed company. “You can spare a few minutes for your Queen, can’t you, John?”

  The captain leaned forward and gingerly picked up the deck of cards. “I’m a little busy right now. Tell her I’ll be there if I can find the time.”

  The disgruntled way he spouted these words made me understand why the Queen knew she needed to replenish her strength before speaking with John Fallon again. He was an uncouth boar. I seriously considered the strong possibility the Queen’s fever had affected her ability to reason properly. Not only had she decided to sit me, a peasant farm girl, on the throne of Vankara, but she wanted this wretch of a man to be one of my trusted advisors. Considering the state the captain was in, I didn’t want to stand near the unclean lout, much less listen to any advice he might have.

  “She sent you this gift,” Gabriel pulled out a small silver canteen with the royal seal etched on its front from his inner jacket pocket. “She said it used to be your favorite drink when you were stationed at the palace and thought you might enjoy having some since it’s been so long since you were there last.”

  Gabriel walked up to the captain and sat the canteen down in front of him on the table.

  “We’ll be here all day,” Gabriel told Fallon in a quiet voice. “We don’t plan to leave the area until you agree to see her.”

  Fallon stared at the canteen before letting his hostile eyes slowly slide up Gabriel’s arm up to his face.

  “I’ll see if I have a free spot in my schedule,” was the captain’s reply, causing the women around him to snicker softly.

  Gabriel nodded graciously and returned to my side. In a low whisper he said, “Let’s wait out front.”

  Once we were back on the porch, Gabriel motioned for me to sit in one of the wooden rocking chairs by the door while he stood against the banister keeping a watchful eye on the captain through a sand dusted window.

  “What are we doing?” I asked. “Are you expecting him to come out soon?”

  “Not on his own,” Gabriel sighed regrettably. “But after he drinks what’s in the canteen, the question of whether or not he wants to come with us will be a moot point.”

  I cocked a suspicious eyebrow at Gabriel and asked, “What exactly did you give him to drink?”

  “It’s the fermented plum juice the palace winemakers make for the royal family. I simply omitted the fact this particular batch of wine has been enchanted to act as a sleeping serum.”

  “Ahh,” I said, finally understanding Gabriel’s earlier statement of ‘he won’t have a choice’ when I asked if John Fallon would willingly come with us to speak with the Queen.

  We didn’t have to wait long. Approximately five minutes later, we heard a loud thunk, like the sound an axe makes when propelled into the trunk of a tree, followed by several female gasps coming from the interior of the bordello.

  “Do you think you can help me carry him to the ship?” Gabriel asked, pushing off from the porch banister he had been leaning against.

  “I’ll try,” was all I could promise.

  When we went back inside, we could see the captain slumped across the table with his head face down in a pile of scattered playing cards. Dora was vigorously shaking his arm in a futile attempt to awaken her patron. The other women stood around him in a chatter of confusion, uncertain what should be done next.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Gabriel said pushing his way through the group of women to the captain’s side. He lifted the captain from his chair placing one of his limp arms around his neck and grabbing a firm hold around the captain’s waist.

  “Sarah, if you would be so kind as to help on the other side please,” Gabriel requested in a strained voice. It soon became apparent to me the captain’s dead weight was a lot more than Gabriel had bargained for.

  I made my way through the gaggle of women and propped Fallon’s other arm across my shoulders. The unclean stench emanating from every pore of the man’s body almost caused me to gag. I took slow, shallow breaths to help prevent my breakfast from making an unwanted reappearance.

  “Now just where do the two of you think yer takin’ our John?” Dora asked with undisguised hostility as she stood from her chair.

  “We are on important business for the Queen, madam,” Gabriel told her as we slowly shuffled our way out of the room with our unconscious passenger in tow. The women quickly formed a line in front of us completely blocking our way, with Dora slightly out in front as their spokeswoman.


  “You drugged him or bewitched him or somethin’ didn’t ya?” Dora accused, standing her ground before us with clenched hands on her hips as if she were preparing to wrestle our unconscious passenger from our clutches.

  The overpowering fetor of the captain and the burden of his weight were almost more than I could bear. I didn’t think I could stand there much longer without either dropping him or fainting from the odorous fumes wafting from his unclean armpit.

  “Ladies, please,” I implored. “The Queen is completely heartbroken from the captain’s many refusals to see her. She’s tried for a very long time to mend things with him but he’s just been too pig-headed to listen to her. The Queen is just a woman who wants to make amends with a man she once cared a great deal for. I’m sure you can all sympathize with her cause.”

  The women were silent for a moment mulling over my argument for safe passage through their ranks.

  “He is pig-headed, that’s for sure,” Dora agreed, the hostility in her stance visibly fading as she lowered her arms to her sides.

  “He should let her apologize,” the young rouge cheeked brunette agreed. “It ain’t right to refuse to see the Queen when she asks anyway.”

  There seemed to be a general consensus of agreement among the group of women regarding the young brunette’s statement. Before we knew it, Dora and the young brunette picked up the captain’s legs to help us carry him out to the Queen’s airship.

  Once we reached the ship, Inara sauntered down the steps to help us carry the captain the rest of the way up while the two ladies of pleasure made their way back into town.

  “He won’t be very happy when he wakes up!” Dora called as she waved good bye. “Good luck to ya!”

  “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” Inara agreed as she reached down and picked up both of the captain’s legs by his ankles. We quickly made our way back into the Queen’s compartment.

  Beside the Queen’s bedroom was another compartment which proved to be a small bathroom. There was a round white porcelain bathtub sitting in the center of the room and a toilet in the far corner.

  “Aqueous,” Gabriel said as we sat the captain in a wooden chair by the tub.

  I stood in amazement as the bathtub began to fill itself with steaming hot water from an invisible spout at the bottom of the tub.

  “All right ladies, you may want to leave the room while I undress the good captain,” Gabriel said to us while he tugged a sand covered boot off of one of Fallon’s feet. Gabriel’s face scrunched up in disgust. I couldn’t imagine how the captain’s feet could smell worse than his armpits, but apparently they found a way.

  “It’ll take all day if you’re the only one washing him,” Inara argued.

  For the first time since I met her, the airship commander looked me straight in the eyes.

  “Why don’t you go on outside? I’ll help Gabriel. It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked man before.” Her eyes looked me up and down as if she were making a snap judgment. “But you don’t look like the type who would have without a marriage bed being involved.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. It was true. I hadn’t seen a naked man before, but I wasn’t about to admit it to someone like Inara Irondale. “I don’t mind helping.”

  “No, go on out. We can handle him. Plus, if he starts to wake up, we might have a bit of a fight on our hands.” Inara grinned and her eyes glittered with gleeful anticipation of such an event.

  “No fighting, Inara,” Gabriel lightly reprimanded. “Emma wants him in one piece and able to think straight.”

  Inara shrugged nonchalantly as she sauntered back towards Gabriel and the captain. “I didn’t say I would start it, but I’ll sure as hell finish it if he wants a tussle. I owe him a couple of black eyes for the way he’s treated Emma.”

  Gabriel turned to me. “Why don’t you go on out, Sarah? Oh, and could you go into the Queen’s chambers for me? There is a new set of clothing hanging in her wardrobe for our good captain here.”

  I left the room and went into the Queen’s bedroom as noiselessly as I could since she was still fast asleep. I walked to the ornately carved cherry wood wardrobe found against the inner wall and gently pulled the doors open. Hanging within were two dresses, one black and one scarlet red with a matching hooded mantle trimmed in ermine fur with a matching muff. In between the two dresses hung the clothes Gabriel had asked me to retrieve. I saw a pair of calf high black leather boots and picked them up as well.

  The uniform looked similar to the leather attire of the Queen’s guard except in color. This uniform was burgundy instead of black. I felt sure the distinction signified something important but didn’t know what.

  I stepped out of the Queen’s room as quietly as I had entered. When I knocked on the door to the bathroom, Inara answered.

  “Thanks,” she said taking the clothing and boots from my hands. I could hear the splashing of water and wondered how long it would take them to scour Fallon’s dirt encrusted flesh clean.

  “Could you take these outside and toss’em?” She asked handing me the captain’s old clothes. “I don’t think any of us want his creepy crawlies hitching a ride back home with us.”

  With those parting words she closed the door, leaving me there holding Fallon’s filth-ridden clothes. I felt a phantom itch start to creep along my arms as my imagination ran wild with images of small vermin attaching themselves to my exposed flesh. It only took me a moment to reach the door of the ship and toss Fallon’s garments down to the desert sand.

  The three of them were in that little bathroom a long time. I heard a lot of grunting and moaning but only from Gabriel and Inara. I could only assume they were having trouble lifting the captain to dress him in his new uniform. Gabriel appeared in the doorway sometime later looking disheveled, like he had just fought a bear single handedly and somehow made it out alive to tell the tale.

  “Would you mind helping us get him out of here, Sarah?” He panted.

  When I walked into the bathroom, I hesitated for a moment as my eyes fell on the newly cleaned and much improved Captain John Fallon. Now that I could see his face clearly, I could well imagine our Queen as a young girl, totally immersed in her infatuation with her personal body guard. Without the scraggly beard obscuring his features, a strong angular jaw, dimpled chin, and high cheekbones were visible now. Either Gabriel or Inara had also given him a much needed haircut. His once long and unruly dark brown hair had been trimmed revealing a naturally wavy short hairstyle, very much the fashion of polite society. They had managed to dress him in the burgundy leather uniform making his form look sharp and crisp, a stark contrast to the slovenly state we had found him in.

  “How long before the sleeping potion wears off?” I asked, grabbing his legs by the ankles while Inara and Gabriel lifted him under each arm causing the leather of his outfit to creak against the strain.

  “The enchanter wasn’t sure,” Gabriel answered as we made our way back into the sitting room. “She said the effect was completely random and depended on the person. I have some smelling salts we can use if it becomes necessary. But first, I think Inara should have us far away from here and on our way back to Iron City. I don’t want to take the chance of him waking up and hopping off the ship before Emma can have her say.”

  We laid Fallon on the settee in the living quarters. Inara returned to the navigational compartment and Gabriel brought up the stairs as we embarked on our journey back to the capital. We must have traveled for at least an hour before Gabriel pulled out a small black vial from his coat pocket and gingerly waved it underneath Fallon’s nose.

  The captain’s eyes flew open. He quickly sat up and took in his surroundings in a single glance before hopping up from the settee.

  “What the hell’s going on?” He barked. His eyes went to the window staring at the setting sun on the horizon. He looked down at himself and brought his hands up to his face. “What in blazes did you do to me, man?”

  “Cleaned you up,” Gabrie
l told him, not an ounce of apology in his voice as he stood across from Fallon. “We couldn’t very well let Emma see you in the state you were in when we found you. She’s sick enough. She didn’t need to see what you had let yourself become and feel any more guilt over what happened to you.”

  I could see the muscles of Fallon’s jaw tighten. He was trying to keep his temper in check but it was obvious how angry he was.

  “I had no intention of ever seeing that woman again,” he growled.

  “You need to get over your selfish vendetta against her,” Gabriel almost yelled, letting his own temper show. “It wasn’t her fault you were too weak to ignore the advances of a seventeen-year-old girl. You should have known better, John. You were ten years her senior and supposedly wiser. Don’t blame Emma for your inability to control your baser needs. Plus, she wasn’t the one who sent you to the Outlands. If you will recall, it was her father. And you can’t say she hasn’t made numerous attempts to make amends with you since Leopold’s death. You’ve just been too stubborn and self absorbed to accept her apology. It’s time you put your Queen and country first, Fallon, instead of yourself. She needs your help whether you want to give it or not!”

  I had never seen Gabriel so upset before. His usual calm was forgotten for the moment replaced by a desperate need to knock some sense into the captain and get him out of his self-pitying stupor.

  Fallon’s jaw was still tense, but he sat back down on the settee bracing his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped before him.

  “What does she want?” He asked in a calmer voice. “How sick is she?”

  “She has the plague,” Gabriel informed him, not bothering to sugar coat his words.

  Fallon’s eyes searched Gabriel’s face for any trace of deception. Seeing none, his eyes fell down to his clasped hands, letting the information sink in. “How long does she have?”

  “It’s hard to say but I don’t see her making it back to Iron City alive.”

  “What does she want from me?” Fallon’s voice sounded resigned to his fate, no longer having the will to act the martyr.