Thursday's Villain -- Lagon from Dragons of Fyre - Island of Fyre #MFRWauthor #fantasyromance

1. 

 Dragons of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 2)

As she crossed the landing field and walked toward the still room, a prickling moved along her spine. Her hands formed fists. She steeled herself to face Lagon.

“Arana.” His hand clamped on her arm.

The basket thudded on the ground. “My lord.”

“How fare the beasts?” He turned her to face him.

“The wounds will heal. Two will need several weeks of rest before they can fly.”

“The High Peaks blue was a mighty fighter. Does the red of that lineage grieve?”

Arana nodded. “In the confusion after the flight she would have flown away but I calmed her.”

“Don’t dampen her spirits too greatly. I want her to rise to mate.” His gaze drilled her. “When she does my blue will follow. With eggs of her get my dragon stock will improve.” He shoved Arana against the wall. “On that day you will drink the tea and fly with her.”

Arana bit her lower lip. She couldn’t let him see how her fear verged on the edge of terror. “What if she won’t rise?” She couldn’t let Lagon know the red was with egg.

His thin lips curved into a smile that held no hint of humor. “When you speak to her she will have no choice.” He scraped a fingernail along her cheek. “You are as ripe as the dragon. You will bear my son.” He clamped his teeth on her lower lip.

She winced. A sullen anger built inside. She sought to hide her repugnance toward him. He liked his women to cower and obey his commands. In the ten years and one of her captivity here, she’d seen ten women ordered to his bed. She’d seen the bruises and witnessed the lashings as each one failed to produce the son he desperately wanted.

He caught a lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. “Hair the color of flames. Fire is what I demand from you.” He pressed his mouth over hers. His body touched hers and his phala remained flaccid. Once again she was spared a mauling.

Lagon laughed. “Soon.” He held one hand against her throat. “Let your fears grow so I can feast on them when the dragons rise.” He released her.

Though relief threatened to bring her to her knees, she pressed against the wall for support. She thought of her fellow slaves. Most feared him, but one or two lusted to be in his bed. She didn’t understand their fascination. Though handsome, his icy blue eyes and thin lips spoke of his cruel nature.

The blue gem in his ear was said to be a payment for the youth he’d sold to the slavers. The boy had been from High Peaks Tower. Had he been the youngest son of the lord, the boy who had been her friend? Lagon had announced Drakon’s death when the women from High Peaks had reached Sea Cliff.

Her eyes closed. Though she tried to form a picture of her friend, she failed. For several years after her captivity had begun, she had dreamed of the young man and of being rescued.

The sound of boots against the stone floor announced Lagon’s departure. 

Thursday's Villain - Vorgan and Britha from Healwoman by Janet Lane-Walters #MFRWauthor #fantasy

Vorgan rose from his seat at the fire. As he strode toward the trees where he’d hidden his
pack, he glanced over his shoulder. The priest poured water over the burning wood. Shandor
stirred the ashes with a stick. Vorgan smiled. They hadn’t seen him leave. With luck, he’d
reach the temple before dusk.

Join forces. Be a partner. How foolish of mid Chu to propose such a union. Vorgan
would impose his own brand of partnership on Shandor. Let the other aspirant risk his life by
entering the temple. Vorgan planned to find a hiding place and watch. If Shandor succeeded
and returned with a trophy, Vorgan intended to claim it as his own.

This was his chance to gain a victory over his rival. He was tired of always being second
to Shandor. The muscles of Vorgan’s back tensed with memories of the lashings his father had
meted with his flail. As he completed the training with the Tutors, Scribes and Bursars, he had
been second to Shandor’s first. The Scourge Supreme’s flail had been his reward. Vorgan
sucked in a breath. This time, he would be first no matter what he had to do.
When he saw the walls of the temple, the sun had just slid over the horizon. There would
be no moon tonight. He donned his chameleon cloak and found a hiding place in a stand of firas.



Britha paced across the courtyard of the posada. Two days wasted. Two days of
boredom. Two days of assisting Mabe while she treated the commoners. At least the Militos
had left and taken their laughter and joking about her prudishness. They had no idea who she
was or how experienced she was in love play. She hadn’t been about to waste her talents on
common soldiers.

As she peered down the road, she saw a man wearing a gray cloak that changed colors.
He didn’t walk, he swaggered. When he drew closer, she smiled. This man was no commoner
and he wasn’t much older than she was. His ice blond hair hung to his shoulders and his skin
was a deep rich brown, almost the color of chocha. She leaned against the wall.

When he entered the courtyard, his eyes appraised her. She met his gaze and read interest
in his dark eyes. He entered the posada. She followed and stood near the entrance to the
common room. He removed his cloak. Her gaze lingered on his broad shoulders and muscular
chest.

“Publican, a room for the night.”

The burly man bowed. “Your name and reason for traveling?”

“Vorgan, aspirant to the priesthood on a quest for the Gate of the Shadows.” He flipped
the man a gold coin. “This should cover my stay and the things I’ll need when I leave.”

“I’ll have a room prepared and make sure the bathing room is available.” The publican
bustled away.

Britha stepped closer to Vorgan. “Don’t you take a risk by traveling alone?”

He turned. “I’ve no fear. Soon I will be Thiasi mid Vor. Healwoman, what is your
name?”

The timbre of his deep voice sent shivers along hr spine. “Britha, cousin to Bodlesa,
Keltoi of Keltoi.”

His eyes narrowed with interest. “Have dinner with me.”
“I would enjoy that.”
“Give me an hour to get settled.” He raised her hand to his lips and ran his tongue over
the knuckles.
“I’ll be ready...and waiting.” Britha hurried to her room on the woman’s side and opened
her pack. She pulled several vials of skin oil she’d blended. After sniffing each, she chose one
with an earthy spiciness. This Vorgan was delicious. Recalling how her fingers had itched to
stroke his skin brought heat to her lower abdomen. The speculation she’d seen in his eyes when
she had mentioned her cousin made Britha believe she might have found an ally for her own
plans.

She returned to the entrance area and sat on a bench. When he arrived, he held out a
hand and tugged her to her feet. His thumb traced circles on her palm and sent heat spiraling
through her and made her nether lips pulse. The aroma of an herbal soap with a hint of musk
teased her. He escorted her to a table for two.

As he held the chair for her, Mabe entered and took a seat at the long table where she
could observe. A scowl twisted her lips.

Britha ignored the other woman’s reaction. She had a right to accept a man’s invitation.
Until she entered the gates of Bethsada, no one could tell her what to do. Even then, she would
obey only when she must.

Britha leaned forward. “Where are you bound?”

“To the Enclave to present the trophy I acquired.” He grinned and his teeth flashed. “At
the end of Frost Moon, I’ll enter the Gate of the Militos.” He signaled the drab. “A flask of
wine and two dinners.”

Britha smiled. “And after the Militos?”

“The priesthood.” He pressed his knee against hers. “I thought your cousin hated
Healwomen.”

“She does, but she has her reasons for ordering me to join them.”

“I see. And do you have your own plans?”

Britha moistened her lips. She believed she’d found a kindred spirit. “Perhaps.”

He arched a brow. “I believe we have goals that could march in tandem.” He topped her
goblet. “Your aura speaks of great talent.”

She touched her goblet to his. “Why else would I be joining the Healwomen except for
training?” She sipped. A warm glow spread through her body.

“Then after dinner, stroll in the courtyard with me. We can discuss our mutual desires
without an audience.” He glanced toward Mabe. “I must be on the road in the morning. ’Twill
take me more than four sevendays to reach the Enclave.”

Britha glanced at the scowling Mabe. “If I can get away. As you can see, she watches
me.” She lifted her fork. How dare Mabe disapprove? The older woman had spent an evening
with the Militos.

“I’ll assure her there’ll be no more than talk. As an aspirant to the priesthood, I must be
cautious in my dealings with women. An intimate relationship would endanger my chances.”
Britha’s smile faced. His scent, the heat in his eyes had stirred her. She’d been too long
without a man. Who knew how long before she would have another chance?

When they finished the meal, Vorgan rose and went to Mabe. He spoke softly. Mabe
nodded. When he turned and motioned to Britha, his grin was cocky.
As they left the posada, he chuckled. “Your guardian saw no problem with us spending
time together. She is well versed in the customs of the priests. Come, let us explore each other’s
goals and see how we can be of use to each other in the future.” He circled her waist with his
arm.

Britha leaned toward him. “And what are your goals?”

“My father is Scourge Supreme. I will follow him and gain control of the Seven Gates of
Midran.”

She laughed. “When I’m Keltoi of Keltoi, we can unite the clans.”

“How can you expect to have the title? You’re Bodlesa’s cousin, not her daughter.”

“She has but one daughter and she named her misbegotten. Bodlesa avoids her spouse’s
bed. Since she denied Norna, she must name the closest of her unwed female relatives as her
heir.” His eyes narrowed. Britha nodded. “I am that relative.”

He swung her into a secluded niche and pressed her against the wall. “This meeting is
fortunate for us.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth.
Healwoman

Thursday's Villain - The Wizard from The Amber Dragon - #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

When the door closed with a bang Valia saw her father’s scowl had deepened.  Though he stood at a distance, she sensed his anger.  His boots clicked on the marble squares of the floor.  At the king’s side, the wizard appeared to glide.

“Daughter, what am I going to do with you?  Hoggen was the last of the princes available for you to wed.”  The king’s eyes sparked with anger.

Valia smiled.  “Father, do you think I am beautiful?”

“That has nothing to do with your need for marriage.  You must beg one of the princes to return.  Surely there is one who is less offensive than the others.  I must have time to train my successor to rule when I am gone.”

Valia’s heart skipped a beat.  “Do not think that way.  You are only of middle age.”

“I must consider the future.  Lanton must have a strong ruler.  Since you cannot choose I will.”

“Father, no.”  Valia’s hands rested on her hips.  “I refuse to marry a man who can say nothing about my beauty.  I will gladly wed one who adores me.  He can take on the boring chores of a king and leave me time to spend maintaining my beauty.  I will not wed a man who wants me to worship him.”

The king turned to the wizard.  “Do something.  Cast a spell to make her change from the vain and selfish woman she has become.”

The wizard smiled slyly.  “Sire, I can devise a spell but you might not be willing to pay the price.”

“Gold, silver and jewels will be yours.  I will gladly pay you to create a spell.”

Valia stared at them.  “Have I no say?”

The king shook his head.  “You will do what must be done.  Wizard, you will have what you desire.  I must have a son to rule when I grow old.”

“As you command, Sire.”

Valia scurried toward the door.  Her father grasped her arm.  “My child, you must wed before another year passes.  You have reached your twentieth year.”

She did not trust the wizard and she had no idea why she felt this distrust.  “Why must you be this way?  Am I not your greatest treasure?”

“You are and there must be a strong man to guard you when I no longer can.”

The wizard stood on her other side.  “The spell I will cast would best be done in the garden.”

A chill rolled along her arms.  Couldn’t her father sense what she felt. The wizard reminded her of the rejected princes. His arrogance was more centered in his power than his looks. Since his arrival, her father had turned from her and halted his lessons in statecraft. She had changed, too but how she wasn’t sure.

Though Valia wanted to flee she would not let this man know she feared him.  She walked between the men to the garden.  A breeze carried the scent of summer flowers.  Chimes in the trees produced a sweet song.  With a wave of his hand her father sent the guards and gardeners away.

A strange lethargy stole over Valia.  She sank onto a garden bench.  Her father sat on another one.  The wizard spoke quietly.  Her father’s eyes closed.  When Valia tried to rise she could not move.  She called to her father but he failed to answer.

The wizard approached her bench.  His midnight blue robe swirled around his ankles.  As he raised his arms the wide sleeves billowed.  He held a wand.  “Sire, do you agree to the terms I set?”

“I do.”  The king’s voice sounded as though he was at a great distance.

Valia frowned.  What were the terms and what did they mean for her?  Shouldn’t she be the one to accept or refuse?

The wizard chanted strange sounding words.  He walked three times in a clockwise and three times counter around the bench.  The seventh circuit followed the clock.

Valia felt as though the bench formed a cage to keep her in place.  Images of becoming a marble statue for the duration of the spell brought fear.  How could she fulfill her father’s demand to wed if she remained an unmoving figure seated on a bench?

The wizard faced her.  He waved his wand from side to side.  Her gaze followed.  His gibberish changed to words she understood.  They unnerved her.

“For seven weeks this new form will be yours.  There is but one chance to escape your fate.  If you find a prince and convince him to kiss you, you will return to your own shape.  To do this you will have a single word.  The first one you utter to another will be all you can say.  If seven weeks pass and you have not found a prince you will become my smiling silent bride.”

Valia wanted to protest.  She had no desire to be the wizard’s wife.  She looked at her father.  He appeared to be asleep.  Had the wizard cast a spell on the king?

The wizard’s wand twirled faster until Valia could no longer see the gem at the tip.  The sight transfixed her.  “Seven times seven,” the wizard shouted.  “The spell is complete.”

Thursday's Villain - Lykon from Horu's Chosen by Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

Merin sat on a cushion beside the table. She poured water into a cup and ate a slice of melon. The time dragged. She heard the priest guards speaking in a language she didn’t know. As she considered resting on the bed Hebu appeared. “Come with me. The evening meal is ready.”

Merin followed him to the main room where the nomarch, his wife, and oldest son sat on the elevated platform. Hebu led her to one of the small tables. “This is Lykon who will be your spouse. He is the second son.”

Merin glared. “Pian of Mero was the first son.”

“Nomarch Sapar’s first son is married and has a family. The Daughter must be the first woman in the pharaoh’s court.”

Merin took her place. She glanced at the young man seated across from her. His round face and obese body wasn’t appealing. His dark eyes were small and round.

Slaves brought food and filled cups with wine. She ate enough to ease her hunger. Lykon gorged on thick slices of beef, pork and duck. He used pieces torn from a round loaf of bread to catch the juices. Other than roasted onions he avoided the vegetables, dates, figs, and melons. She lost track of the number of times a slave filled his cup. She stared at the plate. If he ate like this he would soon resemble the fat priest.

Lykon belched. He rose and held out his hand. “Walk in the garden with me. We need to learn about each other.”

Merin cringed at the thought of being alone with him. There was no choice. As they stepped outside she caught a glimpse of Bast Ka. The presence of the sacred cat soothed her abraded nerves.

Lykon led her to the lotus pond. “My mother’s garden pales before your beauty.”

“How can you say that?” Merin pointed to the lotus blossoms. “Look at how the moonlight shows images of the flowers in the water. No man or woman can measure up to the loveliness of nature.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You are mine and I will taste you.” He pulled her close and pressed his mouth against hers causing them to rub her teeth.

The shock of his assault stunned her. Never had a man treated her this way. He caught her lower lip with his teeth, He grasped her buttocks.

With a sudden jerk he released her. “Witch,” he bellowed.

Merin nearly tumbled into the pool. She saw a line of bleeding claw marks on his leg. Hebu and the nomarch ran toward them. Bast Ka sped away. Merin sank on the edge of the wall surrounding the pool. For the moment she had escaped, but a dark future loomed.

“What have you done?” Hebu shook a finger in her face.

“Nothing.”

The nomarch left his son. “She did nothing. Look at his leg. Those are cat scratches. I didn’t know how the creature appeared. Since I swore to Aken Re there have been no felines in my compound. I fear the goddess sent a warning. How can Lykon become pharaoh if Bast chooses to act?”

Hebu laughed. “The goddess has no power. Your son scraped his leg on the side of the pond.” He turned to Lykon. “You sought to take what is not yours to take yet. The Daughter will come to you when the time is right.”

The nomarch frowned. “What should we do about the cat? You cannot deny one was in the garden.”

“Search the grounds and you will find nothing.”

Lykon staggered away. Hebu grasped Merin’s arm. “Don’t try to escape your fate. Lykon will be your spouse.”

Thursday's Villain - The Nomarch of Mero from Bast's Warrior #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

The trilogy that includes Bast's Warrior, Horu's Chosen and Toth's Priest has one villain that runs through the series. But there are other villains in the stories. In Bast's Warrior, the Nomarch of Mero is a villain. This scene shows him and his inaction with the hero.

Kashe of Mero sat on his bed in his chamber of the family compound. His head pounded. When he opened his eyes he saw the day had progressed into late afternoon. The bright light made him wince. He recalled the past night’s celebration for the retirement of the family’s arms master who had been his mentor and friend. From the Tuten he had learned the skills of a warrior. Last night Kashe had finally defeated his mentor with weapons and a capacity for beer.

“Kashe.” His father’s voice stabbed like a dagger.

He groaned and sat up. The drum in his head banged. Leave me alone, he wanted to shout. The Nomarch of Mero’s anger toward his middle son was nothing new. What did he want now?

As second son Kashe had been marked for the priesthood. He had no desire to become a priest. He found satisfaction in his role as a warrior. Yet, duty called for obedience.

If any other temple had been chosen he might have agreed. He had no taste for this newly risen cadre of men seeking to force their god into the circle of goddesses and gods of the Two Lands. Aken Re had been unknown until the invaders had arrived. The army of those men had been defeated so why did their priests linger?The beaded curtain jangled adding cacophonic notes to the beating in his head.
“Answer me.” The nomarch entered and halted at the foot of Kashe’s bed. “Rise and present yourself in the central hall. We have guests. Your older brother has news of importance.”

Kashe groaned. He and Pian were a year apart in age and generations in philosophy. In embracing the new religion, His brother had seen an advantage for bringing his ambitions to fruition. He believed the priests would smooth his path to the pharaoh’s chair.

Kashe sat on the edge of the bed and considered his brother and his plans. Pian was slender and shorter than Kashe. He fit the picture of an ideal pharaoh in appearance but not in character. He was cruel and selfish. His sense of justice and honor were lacking. He had no love for Kashe.

“Throwback” was the mildest of the names Pian used as needles to jab his younger brother. Kashe had strengths his brother lacked. Every match on the training field had ended with Kashe as the victor.

He rose. He couldn’t help that in stature and build he resembled the Nubian ancestors his father and older brother chose to forget in their desire for power. If Pian became pharaoh the Nomarch of Mero would become his son’s chief advisor.

“Are you coming?” his father asked.

If he said no who knew what would happen. Kashe stretched. “As soon as I wash and dress.” Though he would rather have bathed he would make do here. He glanced in the polished metal mirror. His warrior’s braid was neat enough. He poured water from a pitcher into a basin and washed. After donning a fresh kilt he fitted wrist and arm bands and selected a collar necklace.

As he left the family sleeping quarters he braced for the evening meal, the main one of the day. He entered the central hall and hid a desire to duck behind one of the pillars. On the dais his parents sat with a pair of priests. Their gold medallions glittered in the torch light. His older brother stood before the men.

As Kashe neared the platform he noticed the robes were embroidered with gold-rayed discs representing their god. The pair were opposites. One was rotund, smiling and fluttering his hands while speaking. The other was lean with a hawk-like nose and a somber expression. Kashe noticed his younger brother lingered in the shadows near the dais. If anything was to be learned Namose would know.

The nomarch gestured. He strode past his sisters who were engaged in a board game and gossip.

When Pian’s voice took on a tone both servile and arrogant Kashe grimaced.

“My lords, Oris and Hebu, beloved of Aken Re, has the daughter been found? I so desire to look in her face and claim her as my chief wife. The honor you offer humbles me.”

The rotund priest’s smile broadened. “As yet we have not found her, but the signs point to where she is hidden. When the auspicious hour arrives we will claim her.” He turned from Pian to the nomarch. “You know the price.”

The nomarch pointed to Kashe. “My lords of Aken Re, this is my middle son. He is skilled with weapons and has a vast knowledge of strategy. He will enter your temple as a priest.”

Both men studied Kashe. Their gazes moved from his head to his feet. Embarrassment and shame over the avidity of their appraisal made him flush. He was not some piece of livestock or a slave to be purchased. A cauldron of anger bubbled.

Oris rubbed his fleshy hands. “Indeed, he is magnificent.”

The thin priest’s eyes narrowed. He addressed his companion in an unfamiliar language. “Nomarch, he will do nicely,” he added.

Kashe wanted to rub his arms to ward off a sudden chill, but he wouldn’t allow the pair to see his distaste and fear. He kept his gaze steady and examined the thin priest. Hebu’s eyes were serpent-like, dull and flat. Kashe’s hands formed fists. Though Oris had been named as the chief priest, his companion was the more dangerous of the pair. Another thing became clear. Hebu belonged to the defeated enemy. Kashe had heard that language from a prisoner his father had brought to the compound as a slave.

Oris nodded. “He will be the perfect battle leader for our men.”