Journey into the world of Devera,

the milieu described in

 The Edge of Justice, The Long Journey, Crisis

 and

Ceremonies and Celebrations

  novels by robert luis rabello

Brenna Velez, a Lithian warlord's daughter, meets a squad of Azgaril invaders.

Azgaril Lieutenant Dathan Herulus describes the scene:

Just as we were ready to move on again, one of the recruits approached me with an ornate string of freshwater pearls, fashioned with nuggets of turquoise and gold filigree.  The delicate jewelry, about the size of a young girl's wrist, looked valuable.  Curious, I  inquired: "Where did you find this?"

"That house," he said, pointing to a gated structure behind him.  "There's probably more stuff left.  Backrin and Gehenoff went in further than I did."

I counted the men in my vicinity–only fifteen–and made a mental note to give these three a sound chewing out for wandering off, deciding it would have to wait for an unspecified time in the future.  While mulling over my list of favored obscenities, I heard a stray shot and a distinctively male scream from inside the building.  "Come with me," I ordered, signaling for others to follow, pointing to where I wanted support squads to assemble.  The  troops immediately followed my orders.  I suddenly forgot about my confidence problem, plunging inside, bayonet ready.

Private Backrin crouched at the base of a magnificent stone staircase that spiraled up to the next floor.  Pain painted his face as he clutched his right wrist and bit on his lower lip to avoid crying out again.  Though I am no medic, even in the dim light my cursory inspection noted cut bone beneath a deep gash in Backrin’s leather gauntlet.  A frighteningly keen blade had parted leather and flesh with ease.  How had he come close enough to one of these to suffer damage of this kind? 

"Get Sivestri up here!"  I ordered, calling for our medic.  Backrin’s bleeding seemed serious, and I worried that I’d soon lose another soldier.

"What happened?"  I inquired.

Private Backrin wouldn't raise his eyes to mine, trembling with fear and shame.  "We found this girl," he began.  "We wanted her.  She was alone we didn't think she could fight."

"Lith cow!" I muttered.  "Where's Gehenoff?"

"She killed him when he tried to go upstairs," Backrin  replied.  "Be careful, lieutenant.  She's got a bow, and she’s deadly!"

I arose to ascend the stairs, but Sergeant Aransen stopped me with a firm hand on my shoulder.  “We need you, sir,” he said.  Aransen jerked his head to send a couple of privates up first.

Once the lead man reached the top step, he raised his gun and fired a shot.  Immediately, an arrow sank into the soft spot at the base of his neck.  Another followed in rapid succession, striking his companion in the same place.  Horrified at their swift demise, I watched both men slump and tumble down the stairs, gasping grotesquely and clutching at their throats.

Blindly, a trio of nearby comrades opened fire upon the second-floor railing in an ear-shattering fusillade that matched my personal rage with its fury.  It had been stupid to do that, however, for as soon as they opened their trapdoor mechanisms to reload, she leaped onto the railing and fired her bow with astonishing speed.  Two of them fell with arrows in their throats, while the third, who turned away when he realized he couldn’t reload fast enough, twisted to his knees as an arrow slammed into his upper back and pierced his heart.

I screamed at my men to take cover, huddled beneath a table and recited the most foul list of obscenities in my language for emphasis.  To my surprise, she answered me!

"Leave now, and I'll spare your wretched life!" she threatened, speaking my own tongue fluently.

I was astounded at her audacity.  "Who are you to talk to me that way?"  I'd never heard anyone address an Azgaril officer in such an insolent tone of voice.

"I live here.  Go away!  Leave me alone!"

As the smoke from our guns dissipated, I peeked above the table to check for myself.  Gehenoff lay on the upper landing in a pool of his own blood, an arrow extending from the exact place at the base of his neck where his companions had been struck.  The girl had jumped down from the rail and now stood several paces back from the top of the staircase.  Filtered window light illuminated her rich, green skirt and a sheer, silky blouse.  Raven-haired, with shining blue eyes, she was the first Lithian I'd ever seen alive, and she looked breathtakingly beautiful!  My heart raced with both fear and desire as I gently put down my gun and slowly inched upstairs.

She held a longbow at the ready, along with a gleaming dagger clasped in her left hand.   A pair of arrows, one nocked into her bowstring, the other just half a heartbeat from its mate, awaited flight in her right hand.  She glared at me, backing away as I advanced, allowing progress as if taking my life would be no more difficult than spitting on the floor.

 Enter the World of Devera