Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel by C. D. Verhoff

night.
Fortunately, nobody complained about having to repeat the ritual.
Mull gave Feenie a little less potion in her drink each time, and
she became increasingly aware of what was happening after Barrett
passed out. It got to the point that she didn’t need the potion at
all. She only tolerated Barrett’s lovemaking, and couldn’t wait for
him to fall asleep, so Mull could leave his perch on the ceiling to
scurry down the bedpost into her waiting arms.
     
    ..............................
     
    The warlock laid on his cot fondling himself
as he remembered their first time. Feenie couldn’t walk the next
day; he chuckled just thinking about it. The couple had assumed it
was Barrett’s doing. Watching his Galatian friend strut around like
a proud rooster had been amusing, yet frustrating. Strange how life
worked sometimes. He had grown up thinking the master human race
was a myth—now he was in love with two of them—and tracking a group
of their kind through the grasslands and forests.
    When Mull finished jacking off, he finished
undressing and went outside. Sometime after midnight, he guessed by
the position of the moon. The Red Squad would be bedded down for
the night. They would surely have a watchman on duty, so he would
have to work fast and smart.
    He didn’t want to kill anyone—not if he
didn’t have to—Galatians were a rare breed and Glonare wouldn’t be
happy if he wasted one. Perhaps the Bulwark or Regalan would be on
duty. Their species weren’t important to the cause, but they’d be
the most difficult to kill, so he was counting on the element of
surprise.
    Filling his darts with liquid sleep, he
counted out ten drops. Three for Hogard: Basher of a Hundred
Skulls, two for Dante Armstrong, and the rest of the squad would
only need one drop each to go to dreamland, but he packed spare
darts on the off chance he missed.
    Now—time to prepare the transport spell. Once
mixed, the powder would dissolve within ten to twenty minutes,
pulling him back from his destination, leaving him plenty of time
to get what he wanted.

 
     
     
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Earlier That Day
     
    (Josephine Rose Albright)
     
    Rain fell throughout the morning. After a
soggy afternoon of riding followed by humidity so dense that Josie
could see water droplets in the air, Prince Loyl decided to make
camp early.
    The squad went through its usual routine with
Hogard doing a security check, Josie and Lindsey foraging for
fruits and vegetables, Dante and Loyl hunting for game, Rolf
tending the horses and picketing them out to graze. Lars’s job was
to start the fire and to guard the camp. Food prep was shared by
all. After supper, Lindsey and Josie slept side-by-side in the
middle, while the men spaced out in a circle around them, to
protect against the slave traders, still active though banned by
all the Western Nations. After another hard day on the trail, sleep
came easily to Josie.
    Fog swirled around her feet in her dreams.
She was running along a narrow path, overarched by leafless trees,
toward a Gothic cathedral. A huge dome glowed like a beacon in the
dark night. She hefted up her long white skirts as she fled from a
metallic bull the size of a dump truck. Black moss hung from its
rake-like horns. Steam came from its nostrils. Its blazing orange
eyes pierced the night, seeming to bore into her very soul, filling
her with deepest foreboding.
    Scrambling up the cathedral’s brick steps,
she flung herself through its heavy double doors and dared to look
back into the fog. A horde of monkey-like demons had stopped a few
feet away from the door, wanting to enter, but afraid to come any
closer. Heart thumping, limbs trembling as she wondered if they
would cross the invisible barrier between the outside world and her
inner sanctum, she watched their eyes fill with hateful jagged
orange flames. The doors shut of their own accord.
    Breathing a sigh of relief, she glided down
the aisle of the cathedral, between endless rows of