The Best Medicine Ch. 01

"What?!" Vanesse yelped, instinctively covering her ample bosom. 'Damn, she's grinning at me again!'

"Sizes? As in clothes? We're stopping to pick you up something else to where, because elvish ceremonial robes are likely to stand out where we're going."

"Which is?"

"Short term . . . Canada. Well, Walmart first, then Canada. We need to get you some flannel and a hat with ear flaps, stat."

'Please be kidding,' she thought.

"Vanesse, it probably would not hurt in this situation to cooperate. You should be as comfortable as possible," Trina said from her position in the middle of the vehicle.

"I am not going to tell her what size . . . you know!"

"If you're worried about telling me your bra size, don't worry. I already guessed that."

"You did not!"

"You're a 36D-28-34. I'm mostly just waning to know your inseam, but if you want to talk naughty details --"

"How . . . how --" Vanesse wished that she had brought a blanket to cover up with.

"Sweetcheeks, I've seen many a woman in and out of their frilly unmentionables. I'm good at the measurement game."

They pulled into a Walmart on the outskirts of Fairbanks, where Alani and a half-dozen other gang members went inside to do some shopping. Farmer kept the engine, heater, and conversation going.

"So you're really planning on not talking to me the whole trip?" the lead werehyena asked. "I'm a great conversationalist. You should --"

"Shut up!" Vanesse said. "You've kidnapped me, drugged me, drugged my only friend --"

"Only? Kinda harsh. Don't they have a support group for you royal types? Or toadies? And honestly, what the hell were you doing out in the middle of nowhere?"

"I told you, hiding from --"

"You DO know that there is no crusade against the elves, don't you?" Farmer interrupted. She looked over at Trina. "YOU at least should know that."

"I have no more access to news that does the Princess," Trina said. This was an evasion of course, but she hoped that Farmer would keep her out of it.

"Sweetcheeks --"

"My name is Vanesse!"

"Vanesse, why do you think people have it in for the elves? There hasn't been a problem between the magical races in . . . well, as long as I've been in the business."

"Tell that to the sorcerer who killed my parents," Vanessa growled, trying to control the sorrow in her voice. After all this time, she still missed them. "The King moved me there so that our enemies couldn't find us."

"Every monarch or leader has enemies. Never heard of anyone hiding out like that though."

"But I was in direct danger," Vanesse said, looking over her shoulder for confirmation from Trina, but the battle-dancer's face was like a stone mask. "Trina, I was in direct danger, wasn't I?" She still got no response. "Damn it Trina, I order you --"

"Now let's calm down," Farmer said, the voice that had been curious and light-hearted now dark and serious. "I don't want to have to sedate you."

Vanesse then proved just how comfortable she was with absolute silence, as she just glared out the window and waited for the others to get back.

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Late that night . . .

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King Tarrin Ralisen and Baron Glennon Montain both had sour expressions as they paced a circle around the meeting room in Montain's posh estate on the outskirts of London. Just moments earlier they had gotten word from the Princess's supposedly safe retreat in Middle Of Nowhere, Alaska that the compound had been hit and the Princess along with her battle-dancer taken. Phone lines had been cut and magical flares sent up that had blocked communication for almost twelve hours, meaning that the kidnappers could be long gone.

The King had sent out word to his people as well as his allies to watch the airports and public transportation areas, though he doubted they would use those. The Princess had no passport or official ID, so air travel was out, and there were winter storms rolling through the Northwestern United States and Canada that were grounding planes left and right. With luck, they had not gotten far.

"I want her found," the King shouted at the walls. "I want her found and sent somewhere safe immediately. I will not have my niece corrupted --"

"Sire, we have put everything into motion that we can. Every local lord for a thousand miles is on the lookout, and the royal hunters have been mobilized. We will find her."

"You are a good man, Baron. You will make a fine husband to my niece, and a fine king."

"Had you told her?"

"No, it was going to be a surprise on my next journey out there. Damn it, this is too much of a coincidence. My Father has to be behind this."

"Sir, the Shepherd --"

"Will not have a direct hand in this. He knows enough about the rules of politics that nothing will be traceable directly back to him, but for this to happen just days after him demanding to see her?"

"A coincidence, Sire," the Baron said smoothly. "And unless proof is brought forward, that is all that can be claimed."

The King nodded, remembering why he so often took council with Baron Montain, for the rising star of true elvish nobility kept track of the rules and the old ways. "I doubt that he has made contact before. The Princess's battle-dancer did too much damage. I may have underestimated that one. She has kept her Word for a long time."

"Perhaps we could allow the battle-dancer to stay on after all rather than finding her a new one. A token of good will from uncle and fiancé-to-be?"

"That might be appropriate. Still, the woman is willful. I may have to find a new way to bind her before she finds some way to circumnavigate her Word."

"That is a problem for another time, my liege. For now, we must concentrate on getting my betrothed back, safe and sound."

"You are right as always," the King replied. "I must take my leave and head to the United States immediately. This might even work to our advantage and sway our more ignorant brethren that we should separate ourselves from the other magical races before this Unveiling. We nor the world can handle such an unholy union."

"I will join you in the hunt shortly," the Baron added. "Just let me put some affairs in order here."

"I shall see you soon, old friend."

Once the King had left the room, Baron Montain called in Torris, his primary enforcer and assassin. The gaunt elf was feared in magical community, and rightly so. Battle-dancer trained, he was one of the most formidable killing machines the Baron had ever known.

"You summoned?" the flinty voice whispered.

"The King is a wise man, but he may not be able to separate head from heart in this matter. He wants what is best for our people, but the Princess is still his blood."

Torris nodded. "Being emotional and compassionate were weaknesses of his brother."

"Which we can ill afford to take the throne again. The King's hands must be kept clean in such matters, but ours --"

"Your orders sir?"

"Find the Princess. When you do . . . well, it would not hurt if his Majesty remained king by forfeit."

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Somewhere in Canada . . .

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"We're heading south," Vanesse muttered as she stepped out of the confines of the vehicle, having arrived at their proposed lodging area. "How can it be getting colder?"

"Canada doesn't have enough of an economy to import heat," Trina said in her typical deadpan. She was hoping to get a smile out of her charge, but Vanesse's shoulder was colder than the snow around them. It ripped a little of Trina's heart to be left out in the cold, so to speak, but she could not give Vanesse what she had asked for, namely answers.

At least Farmer laughed, albeit not much. "At least one of you has a sense of humor," she said, heading towards a barn next to a raucous little middle-of-nowhere bar. "Anyway, Jack assures me that this place will suit our needs. The owner is an ex-con who's distributed for us on occasion."

Vanesse did not even know where they were, having drowsed off for part of the twelve hour drive into the Yukon territory. Not only was she not speaking to Trina, she had avoided speaking directly to anyone. That had not kept Farmer from commenting on just about anything that came to mind. "Distributed what?" she asked, just to make sure her jaws still worked.

"Flowers," Jack said.

"Roses and tulips," Farmer said, grinning while she nodded.

"Does he distribute your horse manure fertilizer too?" Trina asked. "Because the two of you are shoveling a lot of it."

This time, Farmer actually laughed hard enough that she plopped down on the snowy ground and held her stomach. "Oh c'mon!" she said, looking at Vanesse who was apparently going to remain aloof if it killed her. "That was worth one pretty smile."

"Where will I be staying?" the Princess asked primly.

Farmer sighed and got back on her feet, leading her into the barn. It was a large structure, and several portable heating pits had been set up, bringing a delightful warmth to the weary bones of the travelers. There was a hayloft that actually was boarded off a few feet from the ledge, complete with a door. Hay was spread out across the room, a respectful distance from the glowing embers.

"You want me to sleep in a barn? Like livestock?" Vanesse said.

"Hey, at least you get a room with a view," Farmer said, glancing up towards the loft. "And I wouldn't think about making a run for it. You're battle-dancer may be tough, but it's going to be colder than a witch's nipple out there, and they're expecting snow. Unless you're a pretty potent fire elementalist, you won't be getting far, assuming you can get by us."

"I assure you, I'm no elementalist," Vanesse said, looking up towards her "quarters."

"Okay, what the hell are you? I know that pretty much all elvish royalty has some kind of magic --"

"Very well," Vanesse interrupted, "if you must know, I'm a necromancer."

"Crap, you mean you could have healed this?" Farmer said, pointing at her bandaged nose.

Trina was instantly on alert, but she had no way of cutting off the conversation without Vanesse getting even angrier at her.

"I can't heal," the Princess replied. "I can only do Major Works."

Now, Farmer and Alani both looked confused. "Uhm," Alani said, "I've never heard of a necromancer who can't do healing."

"That . . . I just never developed that talent is all," Vanesse replied, looking from one to the other. "As I said, just the Major Works. Bones, blood, and time off of life for temporary cheats to death or raising zombies and the like. I can use personal energy for some of it, but it really drains me. I guess I'm just not a very good necromancer."

"As you said, that's the price for Major Works. For healing, all you need is --"

"She has no powers that will help her escape," Trina interjected. "What is the point of --"

"You be quiet," Vanesse ordered. "All I need is what?"

"Sex. Lots and lots of hot, nasty sex," Alani told her, smiling now.

Vanesse rolled her eyes. "Very funny," she said. "Okay, so you got the naïve girl with --"

"I'm not kidding," the brown-skinned beauty told her. "Ask anyone who knows anything about magic."

"Even I know that," Farmer said, "and I'm not the biggest scholar on magic."

"But you're so hot when you're bent over a book and studying," Alani replied.

"You're hot when you're bent over and I'm --"

"Can we get back to the subject at hand?!" Vanesse yelped, feeling the blush extend from her head to her toes. She looked at Trina who, while perfectly composed, was white as a sheet. And just like earlier, that was more telling to Vanesse than anything that could be uttered by the werehyenas. "Is there any truth to what they're saying?" she whispered softly. In spite of her anger with the girl, she did not want to think that Trina had been withholding information from her. But when Trina turned her head and looked away, she got her answer.

"You bitch!" the Princess hissed. She wanted to know more . . . to understand what Alani and Farmer were talking about, but more than anything she wanted Trina out of her sight. Vanesse quickly scaled the ladder towards her sleeping area.

"Vanesse," Trina said, her voice racked with sorrow. She started to climb up after her friend, if the Princess could still be called such, but Vanesse ordered Trina to leave her alone.

Farmer watched this interaction with great curiosity. She was fascinated, but her job was just to transport the package from Point A to Point B. She knew that she should not interfere. She also knew that there was a snowball's chance in hell of her listening to her own advice. She nodded to her fellow hyenas, who all made themselves scarce.

"Well that went well," she said, looking up at the slamming door. She looked over, and it actually bothered her to see Trina's lovely face look like someone had just killed her puppy. The girl was broken up. "Think she'll calm down?"

Trina glared at her.

"Hey, don't go getting mad at me. You're the one who's been lying to her," Farmer added, listening to the elf grate her teeth. "Now, I'm going to go over to the bar, grab some grub, play some pool, and possibly get laid. Lots of truckers, farmers, and farmers' daughters stop by here from what I'm told, and just about any of those sound good. You're welcome to join me, but I've got a feeling that you're not in the mood. Regardless, I've got a guard schedule worked out, so there will be a dozen of my boys in here all the time."

"I gave my Word --"

"It ain't you that I'm worried about. Someone is going to come looking for her, and I intend to be ready if they show up. They'd have to be crazy to take on my gang and a hot-momma battle-dancer, but crazy can be deadly. It works for us most of the time," Farmer added, trying to get Trina to smile. It did not work. Farmer sighed, then turned to leave.

"They'll send royal hunters first," Trina said quickly. "They won't attack, but will just watch. Then they'll start to coalesce, pick a spot, and then drive you toward their trap." She finally smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Elves don't do direct attacks. It is all misdirection and trickery."

Farmer turned around, her curiosity burning her alive. "Good to know. Of course, this ain't my first rodeo, and I got a few tricks of my own, but still . . . Should you be telling me this?"

Trina blundered on. "You know that all the local lords will be obligated to turn you in, right? And with the kidnapping of a royal of any species, the Tribunal may be asked to get involved. In the meantime, the King will throw everything he has to slow you down. He's a prideful man, and you just made him look very weak."

"Again, why are you telling me this?"

Trina knew that it was probably a bad idea to be doing this, but she needed for someone, in this case Farmer, to think that she was not the bad guy. Even though she kind of felt like one. "Because I don't want her to go back there," she whispered, looking up towards the door. "She was planning on running away anyway."

"Running away? But she's an adult. Has she been held against her will?"

Trina backed away towards the ladder. "The strongest cages are the ones with pretty bars," she said. "And they're the ones you don't even know that you're in." She grabbed the ladder. "Don't tell her I said anything to you."

"But why --" Then Farmer stopped, watching Trina climb up. 'Damn, she has a nice ass.' The elf did not knock, but rather just sat on the two feet of ledge outside the wall, settling in to keep watch.

The werehyena leader walked out into the cold, waving the guards to go back in. She found her way over to the bar that smelled of pine, beer, cigarettes, and broken dreams. It was just her kind of place. Alani and Jack had claimed one of the pool tables, while the rest of her boys were getting drunk, throwing darts, or hitting on just about anything or anyone that moved. Farmer could not help but smile as her pack began to unwind.

"You gonna call in?" Alani asked, tossing the boss a cue. "Three of us. Cutthroat?"

Farmer nodded, and Jack started to rack up the balls again. "Seems that we have a bit of a mystery on our hands," she said, finding a good weight stick. She always broke the first game, a benefit of being the alpha. She quickly relayed the conversation she had just had with Trina.

"Weird. So the battle-dancer wants the Princess to be kidnapped as long as she doesn't get hurt, because . . . why?"

"Dunno. Didn't get that far. It was like she wanted to explain something but --" Farmer stopped for a moment. "Think she gave that Word of hers NOT to say anything?"

"Possibly. But battle-dancers are assigned by the crown. Why would they assign her one that wasn't loyal to her?" Alani asked. "Isn't that the point?"

Farmer shook her head. "Oh, she's loyal. You remember how Trina fought in the garage, or have you seen the way she looks at the Princess? Let's just say I'm glad she gave her Word to behave herself, because that woman would be a handful to contain otherwise."

"So do we care?" Jack asked.'

"Huh?" Farmer grunted, sinking Anali's 6-ball followed by Jack's 11.

"I mean, we hand them off when we get to the drop-off point. What does it matter --"

"I'm bored," Farmer said.

"But --"

"B-O-R-E-D," she emphasized. "Don't make me sing it."

Jack threw up his hands in surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Do you really think that she doesn't know anything about her healing?" Alani said, finally getting a shot on the table.

"I dunno. Maybe," Farmer said, watching her magic expert and water elementalist bend over the table. Alani had a nice ass. Maybe as nice as Trina's? Perhaps. And Alani could tell she was being stared at, because she started rocking her ass gently from side to side. 'Hell,' Farmer thought, 'it's not like there's a lot of other pickings in here tonight.' By pack rule, she got her first pick of any "fresh meat," but she wasn't seeing anyone in that night that really floated her boat. 'Too bad the Princess already has a stick up her ass.'

Farmer won the game, but only barely. She tossed her cue to Jack to put away, then walked outside. Her lycanthrope metabolism kept her warm even in those conditions, despite the fact that hyenas were normally not a cold-weather species. She pulled a satellite phone out of one vest pocket and a joint out of the other. She lit the joint, inhaled deeply, then made the call.

"Farmer," the voice on the other end started, solid and powerful as ever. "You've certainly stirred up the hornets nest."

"Well, we DID kidnap a member of the Elvish Court. Future Queen, if I'm not mistaken. Doing stuff like this kinda pisses people off. Mind telling me why I'm doing it?"

There was a chuckle on the other end. "Farmer, you're the only one I know who would wait until AFTER you've done the deed to ask that question. And after you objected so strenuously to me 'interrupting' your drug sales."

"Kinda felt obligated to making you feel bad about this. So --"

"No, I can't tell you what it's about right now. Just let her know that no harm is going to come to her."

"Got that part. Got her battle-dancer to give her Word to behave." She recounted the entire operation up until that point. When she got to the part about her conversation with Trina, the Alpha stopped her.

"I need to talk to someone in the know about weird elvish law. See if you can get the battle-dancer to talk, but you may need to get her away from the Princess in order to do it. And be careful. The elves have their royal hunters out looking for you. And word through the grapevine is that there's a dozen or so mercenary groups headed your way. Honestly, I didn't think it would get this bad this quick."

"Hey, what's life without a little excitement?" Farmer asked. She was kind of surprised. The Alpha had just confirmed everything that Trina had said would happen, meaning that the battle-dancer might wind up being a very valuable asset in this little escapade. "Call me if you find out about any more heat coming my way. I'll check in tomorrow."