Lyssandra & The Return of Lyssandra Read online



  Lyssandra

  and

  The Return of Lyssandra

  By Richard Johnson

  Copyright December 2006 Richard Johnson

  ISBN 9781476352220

  CONTENTS

  LYSSANDRA

  PROLOGUE

  FIRST MEETING

  AMAZONS AND WHORES

  CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

  ROMANIAN PLANS

  PARADE

  DRACULA’S CASTLE

  THE FIRST NIGHT

  NIGHT THE FIRST, CONTINUED

  THE SECOND NIGHT

  THE THIRD DAY

  THE THIRD NIGHT

  ****

  RETURN OF LYSSANDRA

  INTRODUCTION

  CONSPIRACY

  LYSSANDRA

  JASON ARRIVES

  MEDITATIONS

  REVELATIONS AND PLANS

  JASON’S STORY

  FIRST BATTLE

  ISKANDAR

  VILLAGE OF THE DEAD

  FELIX, THE KEEP AND A VERY ANGRY DRAGON

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  LYSSANDRA

  By Rick Johnson

  PROLOGUE

  Lyssandra was stumbling and the Christian struck her again to force her to move on. At least they who had remained behind to be captured had delayed the Christians until The God and the rest of the Coven could escape. Now, she faced days of torture then burning at the hands of a people who declared that their own god was love. Hopefully, those who had escaped would manage to get her drugs to die quickly or to dull the pain and those who escaped would have to leave Arabel before they were betrayed under torture. But where would they go? Catholic Serbs ruled Kosovo, Catholic Slavs ruled Hungary to the north, Greek-Orthodox Macedonians were to the south, Catholic Albanians to the west and the Mohammadan Ottomans to the East. Greek Catholic would burn Witches as easily as Roman Catholic but the Mohammadan? They accepted both Christian and Jew so long as neither fought another and both paid taxes. Would they accept Witches too?

  The prayers and songs ended, slowly but end they did. The Christian chants about killing Witches were the hardest to endure for the Christian god was jealous of the followers of his Parents. He had slept with his mother and demanded that She leave Her Consort for him. When She refused, he had run into the deserts of Palestine and formed the Jewish people and set them to destroy the Temples of the Goddess. Then, centuries later, he raped a virgin maid to bear a son to the world to destroy everything that was left. But the Romans had arrested the white christ and then released him for some reason. The white christ then fled to France with his prostitute lover and left his war of rebellion in the hands of Paul, the Pervert, who had built a church of such power that, 1500 years later, the new Roman Empire of Christ was continuing the will of Jehovah, killing the followers of his Mother and Father. Lyssandra being only the latest of a long line of victims. Better the Christians kill each other for heresy and leave the Pagans alone, she wished.

  She looked up, fearing to hope and saw the patrol. All on horse and all armored, their Captain demanding of the priest. No one made demands of the catholic priests unless they had a wish for the stake so this one must be powerful indeed. She heard hatred in his voice, a hatred that was barely controlled. Please Goddess, give him the inspiration he needs to save us, she prayed.

  Back to Contents

  FIRST MEETING

  I was patrolling the road with a dozen men. We had arrived in Arabel only the week before, a Mercenary Company on contract to the Prince, no, the Boyer, to keep the peace and to help defend this land from its enemies, of which Kosovo had many. Nominally Catholic, Kosovo was surrounded by Roman Catholic, Greek Catholic and Muslim, no, Mohammadan as they were called here-now, all of which sought this prize. Plus there was constant strife between Serb, Slav, Greek, Albanian and Turk which was why we were here. Foreigners, mostly from other religions, we would have no loyalty to anyone or any temple other than the Boyer who paid our wages and so would be more trustworthy than the local militia who would be torn between church and state.

  After settling in, I had taken a room inside the walls as was my right as a Captain then taken patrols out on all the roads to see the countryside and become familiar with my charges. Five hundred men served in the Company, divided into smaller companies of a hundred each under five Captains to control and protect a land that stretched from Albania to Romania, from Greece to Hungary. Five hundred thousand may do the job but… well it was better here than Indonesia, the thought of Lujon still hurting. For three years we had lived and loved and slowly she had dulled the pain of Kore’s death until she left me for DuQuesne, a sailor, a simple employee. That still made me mad even here, halfway around the world and it was this anger than made me stop the procession.

  Christians were always having some procession to some invented saint. Who was it? Pope Gregory in 601, almost 900 years ago who said that his priests were to steal Pagan Temples, destroy our Statues and Art, set up a cross and invent a saint and holiday to match the old Pagan God. Thus they destroyed the Great Temple to Cernunnos in Paris and used the stones to build Notre Dame Cathedral. Invented saint Brigit to cover for the Goddess Bride that they had defiled. Who knows what this was to but I was angry enough with my memories to cause trouble. The curse of the Irish is to wallow in guilt and anger and seek a fight with others to avoid the fight with yourself.

  “Priest, what goes?” I demanded, my sword and Title being all the authority I needed to enforce my will.

  “Begone,” the priest demanded. “You interfere with the business of the Church!”

  “I am LORD Jason Obrien, BARON Innis,” I spoke, emphasizing my titles to this peasant, “CAPTAIN of the Fourth Company of the Free Company of Olaf Redbeard. And my authority extends to any who I suspect of injury to this country so answer before I drag you and yours back in chains!”

  The priest started to speak then Erik was there, a dagger at his throat, whispering, “Priest, I am no papist so speak politely or loose your tongue.”

  The Sergeant moved back a bit as urine ran down the priest’s leg to stain the road. Still, fear was a weapon greater than steel and Erik knew how to use it. He had learned that lesson well as a Protestant heretic in the Chamber of the Inquisition in Wurzburg.

  “These people are Witches and we take them to Arabel to burn for their crimes.” He managed to stammer. The dozen with me were riding along the procession, intimidating the people for abusing a few naked and unarmed witches was one thing, facing an army armed, armored and horsed quite another. And the Christians, a moment before proud in their abuse of power, were now seeking to pretend that they had no idea of where they were or what they were doing.

  I thought about this for a moment. Technically, this was a catholic nation and in matters of religion the church had sole authority. But still, justice belonged to the Boyer, not a priest and I needed to find a way to save these people without taking their place. I rode to the first prisoner, bleeding from multiple beatings and asked, “Man, this priest says that you are a Witch. Is that true?”

  He started to answer when his captor struck him, only to receive the butt of my lance across his head. Struck to the ground, I drove the lance butt into his belly again and again, demanding, “I asked a question and by preventing him from speaking, you defy me AND the Prince. Do that again and I’ll pull your limbs off between four horses. Now,” turning back to the prisoner, “please answer my question.” Sometimes, senseless violence helps to ease my mood.

  The prisoner looked down to the man gasping for breath as he vomited blood and bile then, hope began to spark within. A mome
nt ago he was dead, now, if he spoke properly, he may just live. “My Lord, that is what the priests call us. We are but simple people, praying to our own Gods and wishing ill of no one.”

  Damn! I thought. A confession. Better that he had lied. At least help me to save you, you fool. Now what? Then inspiration, “And man, do you pay your fair share of taxes?”

  “My Lord, we give what the tax collectors take.”

  I laughed, having been in the middle, trying to collect the taxes of my own people and avoid paying my own taxes to my king. “So be it. Listen up! I am sworn to keep the peace and defend the people of Arabel and this country. So long as you are citizens who pay your taxes, then you are entitled to my protection. Release them!”

  Under the spears of the riders, the people rushed to cut their prisoners free, prisoners who immediately ran naked into the nearby woods as I sought to buy them time. “Listen up. I care not if you worship God, Allah, Isis or Satan. I care not if you are Serb, Slav, Turk or Greek. I only care that you live in peace. And if ANY OF YOU do this again, I will personally drag you back to answer to the Prince with a rope tied to my saddle and the other end a hook up your arse! And priest, listen well, worry about the souls of your own and leave their bodies to me or I shall nail you to your own altar and burn your church to the ground around you!” I looked around and seeing the witches gone and safe, commanded, “Release them!” and then continued on down the road.

  ***

  That evening, over dinner I reported to my Commander, “Olaf, it was a good day. We had some prisoners released from the christians and captured some bandits who were attacking a caravan. Erik is taking the bandits to the goal and the merchants are setting up at Mladen’s warehouse. Silk from Venice if you can imagine that. That alone will pay our day’s wages.”

  Redbeard finished his tankard, belched and wiped his beard that gave him his name then said, “Jason, I made you a Captain because of your Rank and Title and experiences in Ireland against the English. I care not how many of these christian priests you abuse, Freyr knows they’ve burned enough of my own Temples in Iceland. But this one has the ear of the Prince and can cause us trouble. I am to drag you to him to answer for your assault. Let’s go and better be for you to work on your apology now.”

  Accompanying my Commander, I explained, “You knew I was what I am when you took me on.”

  “Yes, but I was hoping that we’d be here a while before you caused me trouble. At least saving that merchant will help you.”

  Along the way we were joined by Felix, another of the five Captains who worked for Olaf. “Commander, Lord Obrien, I heard about your incident and wish to support my friend. Besides, we have not yet finished our game though I shall win in six moves.”

  “Six!” I said, “Felix, you think highly of your skills.”

  “No, My Lord, I am just realistic. In the woods as a guerilla fighter against overwhelming numbers, I bow to your skill. But Chess is a game of armies upon open field and there I am the better. Still, only our Commander and you give me a decent game and I’d hate to loose either of you.”

  We were passed into the palace, actually another fortress within this walled city which had known rule by Turk, Albanian, Serb and Solvene a dozen times this century alone, to meet with the Prince. He really wasn’t a Prince, more a lower rank Boyer but this was his land and so he could call himself anything he wanted. I myself was Tierna which could be anything from Baron to Prince depending on how many swore me fealty so I understood this well, unlike Olaf who being Dane, swore to none but his own king and that only when convenient. Olaf and I didn’t like each other for racial and religious distrust had been bred into each of us over the centuries, but we did respect another and sometimes, that was enough.

  We entered, bowed, doffing our hats and Olaf called out, “Hail Prince Viktor, I am here at your request.” Olaf never allowed people to think they commanded him. It was his Icelandic independence that encouraged him to believe in Democracy, a strange concept here.

  Viktor looked up and motioned us forward. “Lord Innis, I have a complaint against you from Father Goran. It seems that you not only interfered with the Church ridding us of some of the local Witches, you also threatened his very life. I should like to hear you side if I may.” The priest started to sputter then ceased immediately as Viktor raised his hand. The Prince looked an effeminate fop and was rumored to be gay or at best, bi-sexual with an unhealthy attraction for sheep but he had a reputation for those who angered him to die in embarrassing and painful manners in dark alleys. The fact that the man was fair to most of his people only made him tolerable. Arabel was a trading city on the crossroads and in war, a prize. In peace, a place where a man could grow wealthy if he respected differences and was mostly honest.

  Bowing again, my hat over my heart and my hand noticeably away from broadsword hilt, I began. “My Lord, I am sworn to your defense and the protection of your people. So when I saw one group abusing another, I investigated. Please forgive my ignorance of your customs but what I did was to your benefit for the more taxpayers that die, the less money to your noble coffers and this potential poverty risks your self and your city.”

  It was known that Viktor was a faithful Catholic but his position forced him to tolerate the Moslems and Jews within his realm. Plus he resented the tithing that the church demanded for Viktor was also a greedy bastard who spent more on one pair of shoes than most earned in a year. “I must commend your desire to protect me but please, in the future, try to avoid threatening the representatives of God. I must insist that you apologize to Father Goran and make amends.” Viktor knew that both Olaf and I were pagans and this was simply a means of showing his power over us and appeasing the Church which wished us both burned.

  “Of course, My Lord. You are correct as always.” Then turning, trying to bite back the bile I felt, then I smiled as inspiration again appeared. “Father Goran, I do most humbly apologize to you for any discomfort I may have caused you.” I deliberately rested my hand on sword-hilt. Centuries old, that sword had tasted the blood of Dane and Brit and more recently, the bandits that I had captured this very morning. And I knew that Viktor knew about that too. Viktor had a spy network that was the envy of every king west of Romania. Viktor counted and weighed information as most men counted and weighed gold and could probably tell the names of every man I had killed in my life.

  “Unfortunately, Father Goran, as you know I too am Boyer and so must keep my promises so as much as it pains me to say, for all know how much I respect yourself and your position, I must, sadly, keep the promise that I made this morn. I regret that there are hard feelings between us for my respect for the church is well known and it would crush me were anything to happen to you or it and I would, of course, ask our noble Prince Viktor to place me in charge of any investigation concerning any accident that befalls either. Please accept my apologies for my earlier words and actions.” Even Prince Viktor smiled at that for every man has a superior whose arse needed kissing, no matter how unpleasant.

  All were dismissed and the priest left giving we mercenaries a look that would kill had he truly the ear of his god. Felix laughed, “My Lord, that was the most half-assed apology I have ever heard and I am Catholic myself. Well, the man has a reputation for being an ass himself but he does have power so watch your back, now and in the future for often the church will wait years for their revenge.”

  “Then, my friend, I shall be certain to sit with my back to a wall and allow you to taste my wine first.” The three separated then, I to my company staying outside the east wall for mere mercenary soldiers wouldn’t be allowed inside in any numbers until they proved themselves. Half my men still stared at me with distrust for even these were almost exclusively catholic but there was that thing where they were soldiers and the bonds of military service were difficult to sever, even by the church, and especially when I fought next to my men, not hid behind them. Sometimes, respec
t was worth more than gold. Erik came up and asked, “How did it go Captain?”

  “Better than expected. Catching those bandits helped. I had to apologize, of course, but other than that, nothing.” We stopped by a leatherworker’s shop where I picked up a ball made of a dozen leather pentagons sewn into a sphere and stuffed with old rags but it would do. Then I ordered, “Sergeant, call the men together if you please.” I found that politeness worked better than the whip. But only if you earned the men’s respect and I never asked my men to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.

  “Listen up! The Captain has something to say.”

  “Peter, take two spears and run to that end of the field. Drive them in about two spans apart. Alan, take two more and do the same to the other side. The rest of you listen up. I know it’s dull out here but that’s a soldier’s life filled with unending days of mind-numbing boredom followed by a few hours of abject terror.” Some laughed at this, the rest watched me move the ball around with my feet. I then kicked it and it struck one man who bent to pick it up. “No! Not with your hands, kick it to me. Kenneth, you are a team captain for today. Robert, you are the other. Move apart and choose ten men apiece for your team.”

  When they were done they followed me to the center of the field. “This is called… kick-ball! Kenneth’s men are to kick the ball between those spears. Robert’s men are to defend their goal, take the ball and kick it between the other goals. However, you may only kick the ball and not carry or throw it. If the ball leaves the ground, you can block it any way you want. There is to be no hitting, kicking, punching or any other injury to anyone. The team with the most goals before it gets too dark to see wins. Captains, choose one man to guard your goal and another to kick off. The rest you line up between the center and the goals as your captain wishes.”

  Walking to the side I handed the ball to Erik and said, “Toss it to the middle and when it strikes the ground, yell ‘begin’. Remember, the idea is to build team spirit, have fun and keep busy. Oh yes, one thing more!”