Author's note: For those of you who are joining us for the first time, here's the deal. She's a warrior woman who flies a giant bird. He's a scholar and explorer. There's mutual attraction, but some betrayal and anger as well. That's as much depth as there is to the story. Now let's get started!
The mausoleum of Archduke Nemez was magnificent to behold. Standing at the centre of the largest park of Arnhol, the late nobleman's home city, it was shaped like a flat-topped step pyramid and covered with polished black granite. Traces of gold and crystal recreated scenes of trees, birds, animals and more fanciful creatures, shifting and changing with the turning of the sun and moon.
Nemez, as the Emperor's beloved uncle, had been laid to rest beneath the massive structure on the first day of spring. For a month, his heavy coffin lay in state in the large burial chamber, waiting to be sealed inside the day after the next new moon.
Neither particularly clever as an administrator, nor successful as a military commander, Nemez had derived his popularity from his immense wealth and his generous nature. People flocked from all over the Empire to visit the tomb before it was sealed, to pay their respects and perhaps catch a glimpse of the treasures that were to be buried with him.
On the final day, soldiers from the Emperor's own guard swept the park, evicting stragglers and merrymakers. At the gate, the grizzled Under-Captain looked on as they left. The last few weeks had been easy duty: mostly he'd sat in the early spring sunshine, occasionally sending one or two of his soldiers to deal with drunken troublemakers.
Back to standing guard outside the Emperor's quarters tomorrow,
he thought glumly.
He decided that he'd miss looking at the great stone mausoleum. The structure would no doubt continue to draw visitors to the city long after the tomb was sealed. He'd enjoyed watching the pictures change with the passing of the weeks, as the moon turned through its phases and the sun awoke from its winter slumber.
His eye caught someone approaching the gate from the direction of the Priory. A tall man, but hunched over, wearing the shabby brown gown of a clerk. He walked with a pronounced limp and leaned heavily on the sturdy stick in his hand. His other clutched at the satchel that was slung around his neck.
"What now, Brene? Has your esteemed master decided that he wants yet another inventory drawn up of the burial goods?" He laughed at his own joke, but not too loudly. It was clear that poor Brene had indeed been sent to spend the night at the mausoleum.
The man called Brene paused as he reached the gate, panting and rubbing his leg. "The Prior, in his wisdom, feels that someone should make sure that nothing has gone missing. Again." He straightened and spat. "Guess who?"
The Under-Captain gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, careful not to throw the bent man off balance. "You poor fool. Listen, come join me in the tavern over there for a nice hot drink. The night will be cold, and that stone tomb even colder." He grinned. "I'll swear to the Prior and anyone else who asks that you were hard at work all night."
The other man looked at the bright lights spilling out from the tavern's windows, but eventually shook his head, a wistful expression on his face. "If anything is found missing tomorrow... It's more than I care to risk. And more than you should risk, too." He turned and limped through the gate. "Thanks for the offer, though. You're a good man. Now be a good soldier and lock that gate behind me."
Shaking his head, the Under-Captain did just that. The smaller gates in the high fence were already locked, and he had soldiers patrolling outside. With a last glance at the hunched form vanishing into the darkness under the trees, he turned and made his way to the tavern and that hot drink.
The man that reappeared a short while later from beneath the trees bore little resemblance to the hunched, limping clerk. The shabby gown was gone, revealing a tight hose and jerkin of a soft dark wool that seemed to melt into the shadows. The stick had transformed into a short spear with a long, dully gleaming blade. Walking smoothly, his rangy form glided along, barely making a sound. When he reached the open lawn surrounding the mausoleum he stopped, just another patch of darkness in the night, and searched for anything that was out of place.
Decorative trees and shrubs stirred gently in the cold night air. An owl hooted, and somewhere in the undergrowth a small creature rustled. The sky above was clear and black, stars scattered across the heavens like... well, like stars in a clear night sky. The man grinned to himself.
What's the point of flowery descriptions if I'm the only one to appreciate them?
He was about to step forward when his eye caught a glimpse of motion. High above, something was moving. A giant bird, making tight circles above the park. For a moment he caught his breath, emotion hitting him like a punch in the gut, then he spotted two more of the birds.
The garrison's roc-riders, patrolling at the Emperor's orders. Get a grip on yourself, Sligh. Winter has come and gone, and you're still seeing her everywhere.
Four months had passed since he and Avilia had parted ways. He'd headed south, like he'd promised himself and his riding-lizard Zretha, and arrived here in Arnhol days before Nemez died. It had been child's play to insinuate himself into the Priory, to be made one of the Prior's assistants to help with the burial. He'd been planning and preparing ever since.
So tonight he couldn't afford to be thinking of Avilia, or her hard body, her mocking smile, her effortless attractiveness. Her small breasts with their hard nipples, her round arse and her pink gash... It took an almost physical effort to stop thinking about her.
No, he reminded himself, tonight he needed to be focused. Tonight he was going to rob the Archduke's mausoleum.
***
The other two rocs spiralled down after Farflier. Black against the moonless night, the giant birds would be virtually invisible from below. Avilia guided Farflier onto a small lawn sheltered by trees and waited for the others to land.
Dismounting, she took a satchel and patted the roc on his neck. "Stay here," she whispered. "I'll be back before you know it." The giant bird crooned softly, then settled onto the grass. The other two followed suit.
Even through the trees, the great bulk of the mausoleum loomed before her. In the darkness, the patterns on its black walls gleamed. The tall fronds of palm trees around the base, with great catlike beasts prowling in between. The higher levels showed only stars tonight, with a few nightbirds, although she'd seen the moon in different phases on different nights. It truly was a wonder.
And all for a dead man who was liked most for scattering silver like most people scattered empty promises.
She'd visited the park several times while the mausoleum was being built, and had returned on a number of occasions since it was completed.
Preparation,
she thought to herself.
More of a plan than just "get the gold and get out."
Keeping low, she crept along the paths laid out in the park until she crouched directly opposite the massive stone monument. The night air was chill on her face and hands. A breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and an owl hooted. Then everything was silent again.
She was about to rise when she felt a warm presence pressing against her back. A voice whispered in her ear, "Well well, doesn't this bring back memories?"
