Chapter 3 #3
Reyne’s stormy glaze darkened, forcing him to glance away while he masked the burning anger boiling within. “Isn’t that a pretty severe sentence for such a minimal crime?” he questioned. “Your people do need water to survive, and that’s all they are doing. Surviving.”
“Do not lecture me, Reyne,” Mordrick snapped.
Reyne took a deep, calming breath. “Your lapdog informs me you have a need for me. What is it exactly that you want…this time?”
“I need you to deliver someone to me.” Mordrick tossed him an info-disc. “This is all the information our spies were able to obtain.”
After catching the disc mid-air, Reyne moved to the control panel located to the left of Mordrick’s throne and slid it home.
A deep frown knitted his brow when a three-dimensional image of a girl appeared on the screen.
She was young. Sixteen, maybe seventeen from what he could gather.
Pretty, he supposed. She had a mass of flame-hued hair that framed an oval face with expressive jewel-green eyes, sweeping lashes, a slightly upturned nose and pink pouting lips.
Reyne studied the girl's sorrowful expression and the slight frown that marred her pretty face. She did have bewitching eyes he couldn’t help but notice.
“She’s Valerian,” Mordrick spoke from close behind him.
So intense was Reyne’s perusal of the girl’s image that he failed to realize Mordrick had left his throne and was now hovering over his shoulder. “Valerian?” Reyne spat the word like a piece of foul meat. He despised Valerians, all Taleari did.
Their two moons had been bitter enemies for centuries.
“Yes, a sad little thing, wouldn’t you agree?” Mordrick leaned closer. “But since her unique reddish hair color is considered a curse, it's no wonder she appears melancholy. Still, she is rather alluring in a strange way.”
“Yes.” There appeared to be a quiet sadness in her haunted gaze that tugged at something Reyne thought dead and buried.
He ignored it. She was Valerian. That detail alone should make her unattractive.
Repulsive even. “Since when do you need me to fetch you a girl, a Valerian for that matter? There are plenty of women here, Taleari women, all for your choosing. None would deny your pleasure.”
Despite nearing fifty, Mordrick’s power, chiseled features and honed physique from years of sword fighting, drew women of all ages towards him.
Only they left his chamber either in tears, or fully sated, sometimes both.
In fact, he probably had more than one woman—willing or not, waiting naked in his bed as they spoke.
Mordrick’s deep chuckle rumbled behind Reyne.
He pointed a lean finger at the floating image.
“This particular female stands between me and something I want.” The statement was so casual, one would think that it was his right to take anything he wanted, whenever he wanted it, and from whom he wanted it from.
It was no wonder they called him ‘Mordrick the Mad’.
“Valeria?” Reyne murmured. Mordrick never attempted to hide his obsession with invading Valeria and ridding her of her rulers. Although Reyne opposed Mordrick’s cruel tactics, he knew better than voice his objections.
“Valeria?” Laughter boomed through the room. “Valeria is insignificant. She is a means to an end. Nothing more.”
Reyne turned and cocked his head, his brow arched.
Mordrick rolled his eyes and pointed at the girl’s image again. “That Valarian girl is the reason my nearly perfect plan failed. You, as well as any, should know that I do not tolerate failure.”
Indeed, he did know.
Reyne turned his attention back to the rotating three-dimensional image.
He noticed the picture was aged five years.
The girl-child would be a woman now. Intrigued for reasons he refused to examine further; he found himself wondering if those haunting jewel-colored eyes of hers would still hold the same hint of sadness today?
He scrolled past the image and scanned the information stored on the disc. Behind him, Mordrick paced the room, his footfalls echoing with each impatient step. When Reyne finally reached the end of the file, he spun to face Mordrick, bracing for his rage. “Sorry, but I can’t do it.”
Intense stormy eyes, so like his own, glared at him with restrained fury. “Do I need to remind you of who, and what you are?”
“Ramachii do not hunt the innocent. It’s against our code and you know that.” Reyne crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the comm. center, daring Mordrick to declare otherwise. “This girl has not committed a crime against Talear. The marker will not bind.”
“The code?” Mordrick snickered. “The code. How could one forget about that damn archaic code?” He waved his hand in a gesture of disgust. “No, this is a personal matter and need not involve your sacred order. This is a job for your other, less restrictive, profession.”
“Ahh, so there it is. You need a bounty hunter.”
“Indeed. I need a bounty hunter, and I’m prepared to offer you a reward you won’t be able to resist.”
“How many tokeneks are we talking about?”
“Who said anything about money?” Mordrick tsked a couple times as his grin shifted into a confident, knowing smile. “I’m offering water barrels.”
Reyne’s dark brows shot up and he almost choked. “Water barrels?”
“Yes, water. And don’t look so stunned. I’ve known about your pathetic cause for years.”
Reyne ground his molars and bit back his rising anger. “That pathetic cause you speak of with such contempt is all that keeps me going.”
“What you do with your time, and your money is on you. It ends up in my coffers either way. But seriously Reyne, you could have done a better job disguising the things you do on my moon, especially when you think no one is watching.”
Reyne clenched his fists but resisted the urge to punch Mordrick in the face.
For years, the funds earned as a bounty hunter were used to purchase water under an assumed name.
The barrels—purchased in small amounts from different water vendors and merchants—were transported to a well located deep in catacombs beneath the desert town of Istabella.
He unclenched his fist. “All right, you have my attention. How many barrels are we talking about?”
“Ten thousand barrels.”
Reyne whistled in astonishment. “Ten thousand, eh?” He pondered it, then said, “Not enough and that’s because I don’t like the idea of hunting a woman. An innocent woman, even if she is a hated Valerian.”
“That’s if she is dead. Bring her to me alive and in relatively good health, and I’ll double it.”
“Twenty thousand barrels in exchange for one relatively healthy Valerian Princess, do I have the right of it?” Reyne asked.
“Yes. That’s my offer.”
“Alright, I’ll do it. But I’ll need an additional five thousand tokeneks for expenses and such. Searching the galaxy for a rogue Princess won’t come cheap.”
“Done. When can you leave? I’m anxious to implement my new plan. She is the key, understand?”
“I’ll leave as soon as my ship is fueled and ready to depart.” Quitting his position against the control panel, he removed the info-disc and headed towards the massive double doors.
“Oh, by the way, Reyne,” Mordrick said in a cool off-handed manner, “In ten days, I plan to post the reward for her on every bounty board across the galaxy. Some competition will be good for you, nephew.”
Reyne turned and bowed without attempting to hide his overt mockery. “I assure you, uncle, that will not be necessary.”
That’s what I’m counting on,” Mordrick shouted, watching his nephew—now wired with pure determination—stride past his stoic guards and exit the throne room.
“Exactly what I’m counting on.” He repeated to himself as he climbed the dais with a graceful stride.
Whipping his mantel out of the way, he slid into his elaborate throne.
“Do you think it’s wise to trust such an important task to him?” Magnius questioned as he slithered from the shadows. His brow furrowed with a combination of concern and displeasure. “He has failed you once before.”
Mordrick lounged back with careless ease and caressed his chin with long lean fingers. “Cease your worries, Magnius.” He motioned to a young slave girl, who hurried from her wing seat to refill his cup. “Reyne is easy to manipulate”
“Manipulate?”
“Yes. My dear brother is probably rolling over in his grave right now.”
“Wait…” Magnius’s dark beady eyes narrowed with understanding. “Did that pathetic peasant actually steal a water barrel?”
Mordrick chuckled with wry amusement. “Of course not. I had him plucked from the streets of Mombassa. He was found begging for coin and was more than willing to accompany my guards and put on a dramatic show for a small sum.”
“The chamber?”
“I forgot about that.” He swirled his burgundy wine then took a deep sip. “Oh well, the chamber will teach the filthy beggar a lesson or two.”
“Lesson? You assume he will survive?”
“Doesn’t matter.”