War Against the Realm

by Sherri Beth Mitchell

  Maura patted Silvia’s hand reassuringly. “I am quite sure those moods will pass as soon as he looks upon his brother’s face. In the meantime, I shall get you both something from the breakfast fires to fill your bellies before we continue our journey. Only a couple more days before we reach the Moseman Hills.”

  Silvia nodded her thanks and washed her hands with a damp cloth Maura brought her. The food was simple enough: an apple with a thick slice of crunchy bread warmed in goat’s milk from the few remaining goats the army still had with them. It calmed the hunger inside her and gave her the energy boost she needed. When she finished, she called Maura back into her tent.

  “I’m going for a short flight around the area nearby. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She exited the tent, went to an uncrowded space, and jumped into the air, transforming as she leapt.

  A dark brown pair of eyes watched her ascent, marking her passage around the camp and beyond. He would watch her like a hawk until she returned; if anything seemed amiss, he would take to the air and be at her side to protect her. Until then…he waited.

  She appeared in the corner of his tent, crouching immediately in case he was awake. Luckily, the Lystian’s deep breathing signified that he was sleeping soundly. Still, Saris took a moment before beginning to creep stealthily towards him. He was snoring softly in his sleep, his reddish-brown hair spilled over his pillows. She wondered if he usually wore a sapphire necklace like the one Natosha had shown them the other evening…the ones which went missing after Emaree and the king’s brother had escaped. She doubted that they worked as Natosha had thought anyway. Probably just another trick of her sister’s to distract her from the real issue: the Lystian king himself.

  Saris leaned close to him and listened to his breathing. She felt lingering touches of magic around him and frowned. Extracting a small pouch from the belt at her waist, she opened it up and scooped her hand into the finely ground drepsam inside it. The powder had the same sensation as what lingered around King Keelan.

  So…Natosha had sprinkled him with the drepsam, and on more than one occasion if the after-effects of the magic had lingered for this long. Her twin must be desperate to have the affections of this man.

  Pitiful.

  Saris raised her hand so that her palm was in front of her lips and gently blew the dust into the sleeping man’s face. A smirk overtook her features as she stood up. She knew the effects it had on men when it was used long-term on them.

  Her smirk turned into a sinister smile as she took another scoop of the powder and dropped it all over Keelan’s face.

  Keelan bolted upright, sputtering and choking on the drepsam that was already dissolving into thin air. He looked around with a wild expression in his eyes, expecting to see someone in his tent.

  But he was completely alone.

  Many miles away Saris reappeared, dusting the remnants of the drepsam off of her dress. She was in an open field that was full of sunflowers which stretched above her head. A path wove through them and she followed it unhurriedly, knowing its destination well. Soon, a cottage made of gray stone appeared in the distance, surrounded by a tiny wooden fence that had seen better days. As the meadow of flowers came to an end, a beautiful stream came into view which passed right by the cottage. A round pond had been dug out below it to catch the fresh water coming from higher grounds, and from the pond ran a tiny rivulet which helped with the water’s overflow. Beyond the house was another field, but this one grew stalks of corn entwined with vines of beans. Amongst this crop was an old woman with a stooped back who was working the weeds out with a long-handled garden spade. The spade was rounded and dull with age, and did not work as well as it once had.

  Saris made her way to the woman and stopped several feet away. She knew she’d been completely silent with her footing, but the old woman stopped what she was doing and slowly turned around.

  “You’re back,” she said. No doubt her mind was racing back to a time long before when she had begged of Saris to enrich her fields so that she could survive on their yield.

  Saris gestured around her. “How could I resist such scenery?”

  “Easily,” the old woman said. “Tell me why you have come.”

  “I came to collect.”

  Saris watched with quiet satisfaction as the color drained out of the woman’s face and she bowed her gray head in submission.

  Chapter Eleven: Healed for War

  Her mouth was dry; it was so dry that it felt like her tongue had large cracks in it.

  The thought of her tongue being there made Emaree’s eyes flutter open. She moved her tongue around her mouth carefully, and then reached into her mouth to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. But her imagination played no tricks: her tongue was once again intact, and other than being abnormally dry from sleeping with her jaw wide open, it was perfectly fine.

  Her eyes opened wider and examined her surroundings; she had no clue where she was. The room was extremely nice, especially when one took into consideration her prior quarters in the mountain of stone. The walls held exquisite paintings and the floors were covered with rugs that were of excellent quality. The bed she lay in was soft and covered in blankets of the softest material. The large room was empty, save for someone snoring on the couch nearby. She was unable to see who it was, for the couch was angled away from her, but Emaree assumed it was somebody put here to guard her.

  Nice job they were doing, since their eyes were closed.

  She shut her eyes once more and took in a shaky breath. It seemed too good to be true: she was free. She was finally and truly free! Quiet tears trickled from her eyes and she began to pray to all of the gods to thank them. A chill crept up her arms, and she felt a presence nearby. Afraid to open her eyes, but worried that it might be one of her sister-wives coming for her already, she opened her eyelids. At first she didn’t see anything unusual, but then her eyes noticed the glass panes of the doors leading out onto the balcony.

  There was a small, but very bright ball of light hovering in the late evening sunshine.

  Her breath caught at the sight, for it was beautiful and frightening all at once. Then she heard the feminine voice whisper in her mind.

  “Do not fear me, mortal child. You were just praying to me and I heard your words of gratitude.”

  Emaree answered in a voice low and raspy with dehydration. “Who are you?”

  “I am one who has watched the world from afar for hundreds of years.”

  “The only gods who could watch from afar are the ones whom we still search for,” she said, referring to the Parent Gods. “Are you Saphrite?”

  The ball of light moved from side to side as if to shake its unseen head. “No, child. I am but their daughter.”

  Emaree quickly stuttered, “Are you the Goddess Chin? Please forgive me for not kneeling, Your Grace!”

  “Hush child, hush. I should be the one bowing to you, for I have failed you miserably. It is my job to protect humanity, but I have been away a very long while and have not been able to do what needs to be done. I must go now, but you must do something for me, Emaree: I need you to rise, dear one. Prepare the Goddess to go with you at the sun’s first light. She will be needed for her skills far away from this place.”

  “I-I don’t understand,” the mortal woman stammered. “What goddess do you speak of?”

  Flashes of light appeared in her mind and she had an all-too-vivid memory of a woman with long white hair holding her amidst a clash of some sort. The woman was protecting her, yet reaching out for someone beyond her sight. She blinked several times as the image faded.

  “Goddess Aldoa is the one who was holding you,” Chin said. “She saved your life and the life of another who also saved you. You must help now—your destiny has been written in the stars, child. Help Aldoa get to the Lystian Queen.”

  “But what of the other witches? Surely they will hunt for me! I am not strong enough to hide from them—their magic is much more powerful than what I have
.” Just thinking of them made her eyes reach for the darker corners of the room to make sure no one was lurking just beyond her sight.

  The voice of the goddess sharpened. “Your magic is far greater than you realize, and you will find need of it soon, dear one. As for the other witches, I gifted you with something that will protect you from them as long as you wear it, or until they are no more. Look at your hand.”

  Emaree lifted her hand and saw a gorgeous silver bracelet attached to a brown link; it was made of an unknown cloth which connected it with a ring of equal beauty. The ring was a dark glass that Emaree was not familiar with. Upon squinting very closely, she saw a tiny speck of something shiny floating about inside the glass.

  “The link will not break so long as you wear it, but do not take this off until you are sure you are safe from the witches for good…which may never come to pass if the stars are not heeded.”

  “Thank you,” Emaree whispered, looking back at the light.

  But it had disappeared. The voice rang out once more in her mind, comforting her. “Speak of me to no one. Good luck, little Emaree, and stay safe, sweet mortal.”

  Emaree gasped and opened her eyes, sitting up. Why, she’d been dreaming the whole time!

  However, the room looked the same as it had in her dream, and the same snore rose from the couch on the other side of the bedchamber. Lifting her hand, she saw with surprise that the stunning bracelet and ring still adorned her hand.

  It had been a dream, yet real enough it seemed.

  Thirst entered her thoughts and she craved water to wash it away. A glance at the bedside table bespoke of that which she sought: a pitcher of water and a small porcelain cup awaited her. She pulled herself over to that side of the bed, poured water into the cup, and lifted it to her lips. Water had never tasted so good!

  The snoring person snorted loudly in their sleep and Emaree nearly jumped out of her skin, her body drawing her knees up close instinctively.

  Shock overtook her as she looked down. She hadn’t moved her legs like that in years. She grabbed the side of the blankets which covered her from the waist down, and tossed them back. She wore nothing but a shift and briefly wondered who had put it on her. Lifting up the bottom of the shift, she would have cried out if her lungs had left her any breath.

  Her legs, once covered in burns and scars, were now flawless. And not only that…they moved. She swung them over the bed, preparing herself mentally to grab a hold of something when she inevitably fell down. But as she pushed herself up, her legs actually supported her.

  No falling. No collapsing in a humiliated heap. No teeter-tottering. Emaree used two fingers to pinch herself hard on the arm, however it changed nothing. Her legs were healed. She said another prayer to the gods, expressing her gratitude. She bent her knees and jumped, thrilled at being able to do such a simple motion. A sob escaped her throat and she covered her mouth, afraid that she might wake the sleeper on the couch, but too happy not to cry.

  She saw that a dress had been laid out, presumably for her, on a nearby wingback chair. She hurriedly put it on; it was a bit loose since she was so malnourished but that was the last thing on her mind as her stomach growled.

  Emaree tip-toed over to the sleeping body and was pleasantly startled to see that it was Quentin. He was sprawled out on the plush couch, with one leg hanging off and his white hair in a state of disarray. He wore his luminous white robe, which was bunched up around his knees where he’d moved about in his sleep. She could see he wore a simple pair of tan trousers underneath. She gently swept away a snowy lock of hair that was draped over his face and smiled. He, too, had been healed and was no longer badly burned on his face from the fire poker Natosha had used upon him.

  After all he had done for her already, here he was—determined to watch over her while she slept. This man had risked his life for her, and more than once. She did not know him at all, but his undaunted methods of rescuing Emaree let her know that this was someone she could place her trust in. She owed him everything that she had to give, for he had granted her freedom by force from the heathen witches. Her debt to him would be everlasting, and it was one she would gladly pay.

  But before she could give her all to him to repay this infinite debt, she needed to obey Goddess Chin.

  Moments later, she was walking down the hall, trying not to run in her excitement. One of the two guards who had been standing outside the door of the room she’d come out of trailed her. She didn’t mind; she knew that he’d most likely been told to do so to make sure she wasn’t a threat. Looking down at her bracelet, she smiled.

  She wasn’t a threat to anyone anymore.

  Emaree wasn’t sure where to go, however that turned out not to be a problem. As she rounded the corner of the hallway, she came face to face with a tall woman whose face was nicely framed with blonde ringlets. She didn’t recognize the woman, but the woman sure seemed to recognize her.

  “I see that you are awake now, and not the worse for wear.”

  The woman’s sour tone did not dampen Emaree’s mood. “Yes, milady. I feel better than I have in the longest time.”

  The woman said nothing, merely arching an eyebrow.

  She began to feel nervous because of the woman’s demeanor. “I am called Emaree, milady. By what title may I call you?” She had spent the first part of her life on an isolated farm with only her family and passersby that came through once in a great while. Inside Rohedon’s mountain, she had been limited on whom she saw and spoke to, and those were always people of the same mind as her husband and his other wives. Now she was amidst a different kind of company, and she wasn’t quite sure how to act, or what to say. She wished to be as polite as she could.

  “You may call me Duchess Tinaya,” the woman said. She proceeded to stare at Emaree until the latter became uncomfortable. “I was on my way to check on you and the young man.” Her tone dripped of distrust.

  “He is still sleeping, Duchess, so I decided to come and find the goddess.”

  Tinaya tilted her head to the side. “From what I have seen and heard, you’ve been pretty out of sorts and in and out of consciousness since you magically arrived in my city. How, exactly, do you know of the goddess?”

  Remembering Chin’s words, she chose her own carefully. “As you said, I drifted in and out of awareness. I recall the goddess helping me, though it is but a vague memory.” She stuck to the truth as best she could; wrapping herself in lies unnecessarily would make her a coat that would only wrap her in harm at some point in the future. She did not wish to be in a situation where her words would turn against her.

  Duchess Tinaya looked at her a moment longer, and then nodded. “I suppose that is more than possible. I have not been informed of the goddess waking up, so I’d suggest you leave her to rest. She very nearly drained every ounce of her magic to save and restore you and Quentin. The least you could do is let her rest without disturbing her. I will let you know when she wakes.”

  Emaree bowed her head. “Yes, milady. Whilst I wait, are there any food scraps that I could eat? I will take whatever is left over.”

  The Duchess lifted her eyebrows and gave her a complexed look. “There is always food here, but why on earth would you eat left over food in your condition?”

  This time it was Emaree who was confused. “My condition?” she said, touching her stomach worriedly. Rohedon had not taken her in two moons…

  Tinaya gave her an exasperated sigh. “Not that kind of condition, girl. I meant how ungodly thin you are. What under the Dark Moon did they feed you where you came from?”

  “Food laced with tendrils of many poisons,” she answered blandly.

  The other woman’s jaw dropped at her answer. “Surely you would not pick such a time to jest?”

  “My answer was not in jest, milady. Poisoning me was one of the ways the other witches kept me weak. They wanted me alive, but only just barely. There were times, however, when they clearly wished me out of the way, yet I either detected the poi
son or survived it. I came to always expect it in my meals.”

  Duchess Tinaya frowned, then reached out and took Emaree’s arm. “Let us go and eat together. I would know more of your story, if you care to tell it over a bite.”

  Emaree gave a slight curtsy, not sure if she was doing it right. “Yes, milady.”

  An hour later they were still talking in the dining hall over a thick soup of peas and potatoes, with warm bread on the side. The food was the most delightful and delicious thing Emaree had ever tasted…and was completely free of poisons.

  Tinaya had ordered them to only be interrupted for more food and wine, or if Quentin or Aldoa awoke. Though the Duchess had changed the tone she’d previously had with Emaree, the wife of Rohedon still felt the need to be guarded. She supposed that it was more or less a reaction to most people that she had acquired by habit over the years spent in the mountain. She did not tell Tinaya everything about her life, but did divulge her upbringing and what had happened to her family when Rohedon had come into the equation. She avoided the questions about the other witches and her living situation amongst them that were too exposing, only letting pieces of information out that were very nearly common knowledge in the Realm. The Duchess was being courteous and did not press for the answers; Emaree had a feeling that the woman was only feeling her out with questions to find out if she was safe to be around.