Mirinda knew exactly what Medra was hinting at, and she never did
entertain herself going "that way", like so many ruined young girls do. No, she
will attract the attention of worthy gentlemen who would love her for herself,
not for the quick sexual thrill. And she did attract such a man. Mirinda, a new
girl in a strange, teeming medieval urban center, had few skills, but she did
have a sharp mind and a talent for figures. So, without much trouble, she
managed to land a place as a bookkeeper and odd-jobber in a sweet shop in the
center of town. In this area, many of the rich and noble often congregated. The
shop, which sold delicate sweetmeats and all things wonderful that only the very
wealthy could afford, was owned by a kindly widower who was more than happy to
take on this young girl. Apparently, and this was a rarity, the shopkeeper hired
Mirinda because he became fed up with his previous employee, a boy about
Mirinda's age who spent much of his time carousing and gambling.
"If a girl can
do the same work as a boy, then I'll hire you," was what the old man said when
Mirinda inquired about the situation. "At least," he reasoned, "I don't expect
you to waste your time in the gambling dens or brothels."
So Mirinda found herself doing odd jobs, keeping the books up to date, and generally finding herself gradually forgetting the terrible past. True, she missed her sister but knew it was a matter of time before they would be reunited. And Mirinda kept her spirits buoyed by interacting with many of the noblemen and wealthy merchants who often patronized the shop. One such man caught her eye like no man before. He was a bit older than she, very handsome in his rich dark blue velvet ensemble. Tall and slender, dark-haired, blue-eyed, a good humor about him, he seemed so charming when he met up with Mirinda. She was happy to show him all the wonderful wares, even personally wrapped a purchase just for him. He then asked, "What is your name? I don't recall seeing you around here."
She only
offered, "My name is Mirinda. I just came here a few days ago."
"And the old man
is keeping you busy? I hope he isn't working you too hard."
"Oh no, sir. I love
it here. So much different from where I come from."
"And where is home?"
"Uh...Ninegates, sir."
******
What a difference a few days make! Maybe it was hearing "Ninegates" that set the wheels in motion. For not long after that meeting, Fabian Martel proposed to Mirinda, freeing her from a life of servitude. What greater joys to discover that her husband was a quite wealthy and formidable merchant who cornered both textile and wine trade between here and Ninegates. It had been nearly a year since she last saw her home, and Mirinda just let it all fall by the wayside. No looking back for her. From now on her life was with Fabian. But things took a dramatic turn when Fabian returned home last night all upset that Theodoric of Fairfax had thwarted him out of a sweet business deal. The man had absconded with a rather lucrative spice trade that Fabian had hoped to add on to his own growing mercantile empire. What pained Mirinda more was revealing those awful memories to her husband, and, to make matters worse, he insisted that they go to Ninegates in time for the great tournament. It was hoped, according to Fabian, that Theodoric and his minions be exposed as the villains and charlatans they are. Facing Edgard and his men again was one event to which Mirinda was not looking forward, and she voiced her concerns to her husband.
He comforted her with these words, "Oh my dear wife, you will not face these monsters alone, for you will have me to defend your honor. And do not forget your sister and dragon friend."
Yes, Samira would be there, but how? Surely the dragon would not risk her life by showing her face in public! Edgard would surely kill her on the spot. No, there has to be something else, a scheme Medra and Samira are working out this very moment. Oh, how I wish to there now, just to know exactly what they are planning.
******
Paul Morrow looked at the attractive young woman standing in the foyer.
Apparently Jamie's idea of a reward is working, but this woman claims no
interest in money.
"As I said, Mr. Morrow, I am not after any monetary gain. I
want to see justice done as much as you and your sister."
"Well, Miss..."
"Mercier, Maribel Mercier."
"Miss Mercier, why don't you come into the library.
My sister will be anxious to hear you out."
In a way, to Paul, this woman didn't
look the part of a treasure hunter or publicity hound. He admired her
prettiness, her abundant dark hair and bright brown eyes. She seemed rather
delicate but strong all the same. Her voice was pleasingly musical, tender and
soothing to the ear. So unlike his sister who, in spite of being pleasing to the
eye, had an unnerving air about her. Jamie had a tendency to be overbearing,
downright arrogant, even cruel when the mood struck her.
Anyway, he showed Miss
Mercier to the library where Jamie sat going through evidence. She had to find
out if this Astrid person in any way had something to do with Dad's death. The
fire was NO accident, as the fire marshal's final report stated. There was
evidence of an accelerant used, the hot spots centered in the vicinity of the
master bedroom. Hmm...the fire started just as Astrid was seen leaving the
house, and said fire was deliberately set. Isn't that proof enough? An
embittered Jamie Morrow vowed to find Astrid Håmasko with all deliberate speed.
The damn bitch! Charming my daddy while all along plotting his murder, and for
what?!
"Jamie?," began Paul, "a Miss Mercier is here. She says she has
information on Astrid." Jamie looked up from her papers, saw her brother and an
attractive woman standing in the doorway, then said without much courtesy,
"Well, let her come in! If she has info, I want to hear it!" Maribel tried not
to look too intimidated by the imperious Miss Morrow, but she took her seat then
began to explain.
"Miss Morrow, I know Astrid, and I know where she is." Jamie
nearly jumped out of her chair, and even Paul had a tough time keeping himself
in check. Was what she said true? Maribel Mercier knows about Astrid's
whereabouts?
"As I said," Maribel continued, "I know Astrid personally, and it upsets me to know if she indeed had any role in your father's death." Now was Jamie's moment of triumph. Of all the replies she received over the days following the posting of the reward, this one seems credible. At last, I can nail that Håmasko woman once and for all!
"All right," she said, "tell me where
she is." Maribel looked directly into Jamie's eyes, noting the utter contempt,
the evil, the inherent cruelty. Oh yes, she has that look about her: cold,
calculating, wicked cunning. She is the fruit of his loins, and she must
be stopped. Coolly and deliberately, Maribel replied, "Miss Morrow, I can give
you Astrid's address, but I promised her–"
Jamie interrupted. "Promised her you
wouldn't tell? Come on, Miss Mercier, what kind of fool do you take me for? Out
with it!" She glared at Maribel with evil intent, as if her very gaze could fry
the woman on the spot. She was adamant that Maribel spill the proverbial beans
on Ms. Håmasko. Paul pleaded with his sister, "Go easy on her, Jamie. Can't you
see she's nervous enough?"
"Shut up!," hissed Jamie through clenched teeth. "If
I had listened to you, then we'd never get to the bottom of Daddy's
murder. I want Astrid Håmasko's head – NOW!"
Maribel tried to remain calm,
despite her growing hatred for the woman standing before her. How cold and cruel
can she be? Her brother is nothing like her. He is sweet, honest, good,
kind-hearted. Paul is, in fact, nearly like his father...and my sister. "Ma'am,"
began Maribel again, this time keeping her temper in check. She hated Jamie
even more so, but she came to pass on pertinent information. "Astrid is
presently living near a tiny village called Ninegates. It's in
Wiltshire."
Jamie's eyes popped. "Wiltshire? As in England? Is she still there
now?"
"Oh yes, and she told me to pass on a message to Paul. She said, 'All is well,
and I hope we'll meet again.' That was all she said."
Paul shifted uneasily, knowing that he cared for the beautiful Astrid as much as his sister hated her. In a way Paul had hoped Astrid did not set that fire, but the evidence said otherwise. The only thing to do was to contact the police, find Astrid, and bring her back to the U.S. to stand trial for murder. As much as he hated doing this, he finally said to Maribel, "You know we'll have to contact the police there, then she'd have to be extradited here to stand trial."
"Yes," said Maribel dejectedly, "as much as I hate to see her face such a
fate–"
"Hate to see her face such a fate?," interrupted Jamie, her face turning several
shades of red, her eyes shooting dangerous darts. "Damn it, Ms. Mercier! Just
tell me how to contact her myself!"
Now Paul became alarmed. Jamie was always headstrong, imperious, but this
sudden move, to travel abroad to seek out the woman who killed Lawrence Morrow,
was all too much. "Jamie, let the cops handle this. You have no business going
halfway around the world just so you can have your revenge."
Jamie walked up to her brother and slapped him squarely across the face. He
didn't wince or strike back. Instead, he just stood here, his hand flying to his
reddening cheek. She said to him, "I'll say it again, Paul: BUTT OUT! Let ME
take charge once and for all. You're a coward, a pathetic little weakling. Why
Daddy put up with you all these years..."
Now Maribel, witnessing this horrid display of sibling violence, spoke up, but
not before she produced a curious item from her purse. "Miss Morrow, here. Take
this. It will help you in seeking out Astrid. I am like you and want to see
justice done." Jamie took the item, examined it, then asked, "What is it?
Looks like one of those New Age crystal wands."
"Well," replied Maribel, "it is a wand of sorts. Only Astrid knows I have it. If
you show it to her, then she'll know her fate is in your hands. But I need to
you do one thing."
"And?," asked Jamie impatiently. "Point this towards the sun precisely at noon
this Friday. The wand is coded in a way that will reveal Astrid's precise
location. Don't ask me how it works or if it's just some superstitious nonsense.
Astrid gave that to me in case people ever asked about–"
"OK, OK! I get the picture. Here, Paul," said Jamie, thrusting the wand in his
face, "maybe YOU can do the 'point the thing at the sun' bit. You're into all
that New Age mumbo-jumbo."
Maribel became very alarmed and perturbed. "NO! He can't do that! It must be
you!, she said to Jamie."
"And why me?," asked Jamie.
"Because you are the only one who can bring down Astrid and her ilk. She has to
be stopped, Jamie, or else she'll destroy more lives."
It took nearly an hour to convince Jamie and Paul Morrow that the enigmatic crystal wand was the key to capturing the murderous Astrid, and that lives will be saved if the Morrows do exactly as instructed. Perhaps it was Jamie's incessant hunger for revenge, and Paul's insatiable curiosity about Ms. Mercier herself. Once Maribel was shown out of the Morrow home, she whipped out a mirror from her purse, waved her hand in front of it, then spoke these words: "They fell for it, my love. All is in place for Friday."
******
"Harder, Morib!," cried a sexually stimulated Samira. Her mate responded with renewed vigor; his thrusts came faster, harder. Into her swollen walls he pounded away, stroking her engorged feminine depths with passionate abandon. Samira rocked and jerked under Morib's weight. She arched her back so he could dig even deeper inside.
"Uhhh! Ooooh! Ahhh! Morib...more....MORE!" How thrilling that she and Medra were within inches of crushing the enemy. Even more thrilling was the imminent victory so long sought for, and that made Samira all the more lustful and lascivious. She moved her pelvis up to meet Morib, her body bucking and squirming under his relentless pounding. The more she bucked, the more Morib responded with ardently painful yet extremely satisfying strokes. Now the orgasm begins. She felt Morib tense, her mate's rock-hard penis tearing its way up her engorged depths. He began to throb and dance within her. Her vaginal muscles clamped down hard around his member, the glistening ebony body convulsing with pleasure. Multiple orgasms came so quickly, so intensely, that Samira went wild, slamming her body against Morib's. She bellowed her satisfaction loudly, searing the cave's walls with gales of smoke and flames. Her entire body pounding and writhing under her mate's, taking Morib on an untamed, fervent ride, Samira screamed over and over, "OOOOOH, MORIB...AHHHHHH! MY LOVE...MMMMMMMMM!"
When it was over, Morib heaved his heavy midnight blue body over Samira's jet black. He moaned in lingering ecstasy; she purred her enjoyment. Both bodies, entwined together, still squirmed and twitched with delicious delight.
Ah, so many days and nights like this lie ahead, with Edgard's utter defeat within the dragons' grasp. No more will they hide in fear, for they will, in a matter of days, be free.
******
"Medra! I wondered when you'd return."
That same stranger who breezed into Ninegates just days ago, challenged the
Blue Knight, and recently became the dragons' ally, greeted Medra at her
cottage. She hadn't time to change into her usual clothes; she was that anxious
to pass on the good news. Now Medra didn't quite cotton to this man at first,
but a few days ago, in the dragons' secret lair, he intimated that he was on
their side and wanted both Edgard and Theodoric get their comeuppance. He
mentioned a son who is now the target of Theodoric's cruel grasping, and that
son has a right to know his true parentage. All right, thought Medra, who is
this son? And what does his clouded parentage have to do with Lord Fairfax and
the Blue Knight?
She greeted the man, invited him inside, saying, "Sir, I still have reservations
about your role in our scheme. After all, it was YOU who gave the password to
Edgard and his dastardly companions. How do I know if you are not one of
Theodoric's spies? Why, I don't even know your name."
He said with the most courtesy, "Medra, my name is Fergus. In another life I
am Evan Tanguy, one of Theodoric's victims, albeit indirectly. I shall not
elaborate now, but that trip you took, to the distant future, should have given
you some clues as to WHY Lawrence Morrow deserved to die, and why the daughter,
Jamie, manifests all the inherent cruelty of her forebears."
Medra climbed up to her loft bedroom to change back into her period-correct
clothes, asking, "Fergus, or Evan, whatever name you go by, what do you mean? I
witnessed the woman's cruelty towards brother. She reminded me of Theodoric,
and...Oh my Goddess!"
It suddenly came to her. Yes! It could only be! Oh Thanks to Artemis and Athena for all miracles. She, now in more appropriate dress, descended the ladder, her eyes wide in astonishment. Medra didn't recognize it at first, but what Fergus said finally made sense. Well, most of it made sense. Is this why Samira went to such lengths to stamp out Edgard and Theodoric's bloodline?
She asked Fergus just that, to which he replied, "Well, it is true, but partially. Samira made me promise not to tell a soul until the time was right. But, Medra, I can tell you, in part, why I came here. I had to see for myself."
"See what?"
"If indeed Morrow's ancestors were as cruel to mine, as it is for my family, and the Morrows, in the distant future. You see, Theodoric and Edgard, by being related through marriage, produced a long line of hateful, vengeful people who stooped at nothing to achieve their goals. Even if it meant..."
Fergus stopped himself, thoroughly hating the man who made a special woman's life Hell on Earth. He had to come clean, or else all was lost forever. No more turning away, no more kowtowing to the likes of Larry Morrow and his ilk. He saw and suffered enough.
"Medra, Paul Morrow is not Lawrence's son. He is mine, but Larry never knew. Paul doesn't know, yet. Evelyn, his mother, and I were to be married, but Larry managed to usurp my beloved only to mistreat her in the most cruel fashion. Samira knew this and wanted to exact her revenge. Not just for Paul's sake, but for Evelyn's. You see, Medra, Evelyn is – was..."
What Fergus revealed was so utterly amazing! It made Medra realize how deep her draconic lover's need for vengeance ran, and it was justified revenge. Now, with the tournament only days away, and the Morrow children about to discover a bit of the fantastic, all the players in Theodoric and Edgard's deadly chess game will finally see justice served.
But there were other, more significant persons who had yet to reveal themselves. Medra, Fergus, and the dragons had no inkling that these people would really spell the beginning of Edgard and Lord Fairfax's undoing.
TO BE CONTINUED...GO TO CHAPTER 5!
Copyright©2003, 2004 by Pepper Shriver* (PRP). All Rights
Reserved.
*My pen name :-)