War Against the Realm

by Sherri Beth Mitchell

  “Do not put all of your faith into what the stars may say,” came a voice from behind her. “They’ve been known to lead people astray. Besides, I think we both know how often a human can change their own fate.”

  Aldoa did not turn around; instead she waited for the other god as he walked up to stand beside her. He was always so beautiful…the way tiny sparkles of light clung to his clothes and hair warmed her heart. To know the mortals still dreamt and wished was a blessing to her.

  “It has been a long time, Firayis.”

  “That it has. But the time has come to take myself out of hiding.”

  Her eyes found his. “That could be very dangerous for you. You know Eerich still holds a grudge against you.”

  Firayis surveyed the city below them. “I suppose there was a time when I would have cared about such things. That time is long gone now. If a grudge is still held, then so be it. I would not change the past in any way, and this he knows.”

  Aldoa was getting more intrigued by his presence. “And what, pray tell, has changed your mind, my dear?”

  His face turned very solemn. “She has been speaking to me through images.”

  She held her breath, knowing of whom he spoke, but not daring to interrupt.

  “I sleep not, and so do not dream, so she has sent me visions. Fleeting ones, but revelations nonetheless.”

  Her heart sped up. “What were the prophecies you saw, Firayis?”

  “There were many, and they were hard to discern,” he answered softly. “There is death in the near future…but there is also something which will become known.”

  She frowned. “My, my, aren’t we vague, yes?”

  “Aldoa, I…I think she knows where they are.”

  Aldoa’s eyes teared up. “Who?” she asked, already hoping it was the answer she was expecting. Rivulets of chills crept up her spine in her anticipation.

  When he answered, his voice was so soft as to be nearly inaudible. “The Parent Gods.”

  Saris met with the raven who had just returned in her chambers, carrying a hastily written letter from the Wyld men, written on something which resembled human skin. It read:

  “Oh, Great Witches of the Mountain-

  We are outside the realm of Nillias and await your command. The city is half a day’s journey or less from where we are, but we are unsure of what you want, or what will be our payment in return. Send us word immediately…we will not wait here long.

  -Jaborg”

  She glanced out of the window to her room and into the night sky, considering what needed to be done. “They will not dally there long. Tell them to attack the city as soon as they can reach it. Their payment is in human flesh: they can kill and eat whomever they capture as long as it’s not the Lystian King and Queen or their close company—those I want kept alive and chained. Torture is not beyond reasonability though, should the Wyld get bored.”

  The servant nodded, hesitated, and then quickly asked, “Do the Wyld truly eat other humans?”

  Saris smiled savagely. “Why yes, they do. And if you don’t relay that message to them as quickly as possible, I’m going to have them eat you first.”

  The servant dashed away, jumped out the window, and took flight as his body changed into that of a raven.

  Saris remained where she was as he disappeared quickly into the night sky. Her feet began to move beneath her long dress and she found herself at her window, looking down into the black lake. As the moonlight cast a delicate glow on it, a misshapen tentacle breached the surface and caressed the gently lapping waves. She smiled at her pet, who no doubt had felt her presence because of the magic which connected them.

  She recalled a time, long ago and deep into her past, when she’d been in her late teens and her magic had first started. Her family had just sat down to supper, sans Natosha, who had disappeared mere days before. Saris was still wearing the aftermath of her father’s anger over her sister’s vanishing and her mother glared at her bruised face from across the table without pity. Saris had not felt any emotion at the time, other than the intense need to escape the life which she was now trapped in by herself. There had always been her sister there before, and they got through everything together. Now with Natosha gone, Saris would have to travel all paths alone, and for the first time. Nevertheless, she wasn’t ill with her twin; they lived a boring life with a hateful mother and father who were waiting on the day when they could auction off their daughters to the bidders with the highest dowries. They had already received several offers, but were pitting the suitors up against each other in hopes of getting more out of them.

  That night the door had burst open as they laid waste to chicken stew and a stale loaf of bread. A dark-haired man had come in, shut the door behind him, and was walking towards the table. Astonished, her father had asked the man what in the name of the Dark Moon he thought he was doing. The stranger had taken a long look at Saris (and one that was so intense that it made blood rush to her cheeks) and replied that he was there to collect their daughter for marriage. Her mother thought it a poor joke and said as such, but the man seemed unperturbed. He tossed a pouch of lisks and snicks on the table and repeated that he was there to collect their daughter. Her father picked up the pouch and felt its weight. Smiling, he told the stranger he had a deal.

  Saris herself hadn’t cared either way. The stranger had an exciting, dangerous air about him and anything was better than spending the rest of her days with her parents. She left to go gather a small bag of her things and returned to see her father and the stranger drinking of ale the man had brought in celebration of the agreement. Her father had quickly become inebriated, as they rarely drank alcohol on account of finances.

  The stranger (and her husband-to-be) appeared unaffected by the drink. She walked over and set her things next to him, signaling that she was ready when he was. As her father filled his cup yet again, her mother slapped at his hand and told him he’d had enough. Her father started to answer her, but his face froze. His skin turned an alarming shade of red, and soon was nearly purplish. Her mother jumped back in horror as he fell out of his chair, dead.

  Her mother shrieked loudly, backing herself into the corner and staring at her husband as though he had grown another head.

  “You’ve killed him!” her mother screamed at the stranger.

  But the man shook his head. “Actually, milady, I did not. Someone else did.” He opened a flap of clothe within his cloak and removed a tiny wooden figure of a woman. He set it on the floor next to the table, waved his hand over it, and a bright flash of light appeared. When Saris’ vision returned to normal, she was pleasantly surprised to see none other than her sister standing before them.

  Natosha was radiant in her fine clothes with her hair pinned up just above her shoulders and her expression was a fierce one. “Dearest Mother,” she said. “I have found the suitor you have always wished me to have—the kind that would pay a pretty piece to you for my hand.”

  Their mother gazed at her warily. “He has bewitched you. Step away from him, child.”

  Natosha laughed. “I would no sooner step away from the man I am married to than you would have from your dead husband.”

  Saris looked at her twin in surprise. “You are married to this man?”

  “Yes, and a fine husband he is turning out to be,” her sister responded.

  “But…he came here to ask Mother and Father for my hand as his wife,” Saris stuttered.

  “Upon my request,” Natosha said, her smile fading. “I wished nothing more than to remove you from the presence of these uncaring, menial cockroaches we call our parents. What better way than to have you join in our marriage? We have been sisters since birth, and now we shall be sister-wives.” Natosha stepped closer to Saris so that she could speak more softly. “And when you see all of the things he has to offer as his wife, you will be on your knees thanking me.” Her eyes twinkled with dark flames.

  Saris really needed no time to think on whether or not she wo
uld still go with this man. Her bags were already packed and her mind had been set on leaving since the money pouch had been tossed upon the table. She glanced down at the thick red cloth of the money bag where it sat.

  Natosha seemed to read her mind and picked up the bag, handing it to her. “You can use it for your new dresses, sister. Join us, and we will take our leave of this place.”

  Saris smiled, but it faltered as her mother spoke up.

  “You cannot have that back—it’s mine! You can’t deny me of this since you have robbed me of your father and my livelihood.” She folded her arms across her chest defiantly, her blonde hair trailing over one shoulder.

  Natosha’s laughter rang shrilly through the still air of the cottage. “Where you are going, it won’t be needed.”

  She walked over to the front door and turned the knob. As the door creaked open, Saris backed up into the table in fear of what walked in. The stranger looked over at her and smiled warmly, taking one of her hands.

  “No need to worry, Saris,” he said. “He is not here for you.”

  The beast that came into the house was the most horrific thing she had ever seen: yellow eyes were spaced all around its ugly head, each one looking in a different direction, and its skin was crawling with the gods only knew what. It came in on all fours, snarling. It took in Natosha, the stranger, and Saris at once, and then whipped its head towards the cowering woman in the corner of the room and lunged for her.

  Saris could not take her eyes away from the scene before her; it both terrified her to her very core and satisfied her deep in her heart. No more was she under their rule. She was free.

  Turning to the stranger, she said, “I do not even know your name sir, for which to give you my thanks.”

  Natosha answered for him, which would be a resounding habit over the decades to follow. “His name is Rohedon. Learn it, and know him well for you are now his, and you and I belong to each other once more.”

  Saris blinked away the memory of how her life truly began. Her life had been a whirlwind of excitement, danger, lust, and greed ever since and she regretted none of it.

  A hand touched her waist, and Saris spun around to see the God of the Dead staring down at her intently. “Your expression is of sadness mixed with bittersweet victory,” he said. His hand remained on her waist.

  “My expressions change often,” she said. “I was thinking of how this all started.”

  “And are you feeling remorse for taking Rohedon as your husband?”

  “I never feel remorse,” she retorted. “Do not confuse me with some fool girl straight out of the cradle, my Lord.”

  “I would never dare do such a thing. I was only thinking of the magic I bestowed upon you at his request.”

  Saris nodded briefly. “Magic which I have faithfully honed over all these years to get to where I am right now. I am much obliged to you for your gift of magic, Eerich.”

  “How much obliged?” he asked, roughly drawing her closer.

  Saris regarded him with a challenging look. “More obliged than you would like to think,” she said, removing herself from his grasp. “But not so obliged that I should become a servant to your every need.”

  The God of the Underworld smiled beneath his great red beard. “I like the fire which burns within you. It would match the fires within myself that I stoke daily. It would be a shame to put out your flame.” He made a grab for her waist once more.

  Saris rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide the disrespectful action, and disentangled herself from his hold. “Oh, please, your Grace—spare me your idle threats. You would do no such thing to one who can wield powers like I can. I am more valuable to you than you care to admit, though I am but a petty mortal.”

  He stared her down; his face still wore a smile, but it was a dangerous, mocking smirk now. “You are valuable, I’ll give you that. But there are others who are more so than you.”

  “Ha! Hardly any truth in your words, I’ll bet,” Saris said, taunting him. She knew if she played her words right, he would tell her who he was speaking of.

  “Mind games do not work with me, child,” Eerich growled. His eyes took on a sudden reddish glow that made her step several paces back. “If you wish to know who it is, you need only ask. This is one question I do not mind giving the answer to. No riddles when it comes to power.” His voice deepened as his sentence ended.

  Saris steeled her nerves and approached him slowly. “Who is it that could possibly be more powerful than I? Is it the Dead Queen who seeks to destroy us?” As she got closer, the god reached out and snatched her waist yet again, pulling her against him so hard that it knocked her breath from her lungs.

  “The new Queen of Lystia matches your power, and surpasses it. But she does not know how to tap into her magic as she should, and her skills are meek compared to yours. Nor are they god-given. She was born with magic.”

  “Then who is it?” she whispered. His grip on her was painful, but she refused to back down.

  “You need not go far to figure it out,” he said. “She is in this mountain as we speak.”

  “No one has a substantial amount of magic in this mountain besides…” Her voice trailed off. “It is one of my sister-wives.”

  Eerich said nothing. She could feel his heart beating in his chest as it pressed against her own. Despite her thoughts about the god, she felt herself blush from the contact. She struggled to concentrate on the conversation at hand. “But I am the only one whose magic hasn’t been malfunctioning. That should mean I am the strongest of us all.” Clea’s magic had been having hiccups with very minor spells in the last couple of days, frustrating the woman to no end.

  Eerich leaned down and spoke into her ear, the feel of his breath sending tiny waves of excitement through her body. “I sap power from the most valuable witch in this mountain when I feel she is using it too much. I can’t have her growing stronger than me, now can I?”

  The realization was a bitter one for Saris. She had worked extremely hard to cultivate and nurture her magic so that one day she would be stronger than her sister. All that work, and the other twin was still more powerful. She attempted to conceal her sulky thoughts. “She is my twin, and the first wife of Rohedon. It only makes sense for her to be stronger than me. She has used her powers wisely these years, and we have come a long way because of her. I cannot ask for more from a blood relative.”

  “Yet jealousy pierces your heart,” he said. His soft whisper and tight grip were disrupting her focus. “You wish to be the strongest. You want to have the greater power…the greatest power.”

  “It cannot be.”

  “Oh, but it can,” he assured her. His hands loosened and he stepped away. “It can if you choose it to be.”

  Saris squared her jaw as she realized what he was saying. “No. I will never choose that. She is my twin, Eerich. I would never harm her. She is precious to my heart.”

  Eerich stood so still that she could not see him breathing. He only stared at her as though waiting. When she said nothing for several long moments, he seemed to snap out of his reverie.

  “Your precious sister is behaving somewhat rashly—I don’t know if you’ve noticed. This little game she has started with the King of Lystia has gone on quite long enough and is getting dangerous. She is leading that army to your doorstep, Saris. You do know that, don’t you? Do you really want an enemy that close?”

  “Of course not,” she said with a scowl. “That would be foolish. I already told you that is something which I am not.”

  “Then you must find a way to keep her from dragging them here. Next thing you know they’ll be at your border, scenting you like bloodhounds. We can’t have that, now can we?”

  Saris stood a little straighter. “No, we cannot.”

  “Then I would suggest attacking more frequently and more fiercely.”

  “I am doing the best I can with what I have,” Saris replied.

  “There is only so much I can do to advise you and help you
without openly fighting on your side,” the god warned. “Once that happens, all the bowels of all the Hells will break loose upon the earth, and all could be destroyed in the aftermath. Do yourself a favor and make sure the Dead Queen is stopped.”