War Against the Realm

by Sherri Beth Mitchell

  “You mean you came here to watch over me,” Natosha said, sending a glare at her sister-wife over her shoulder. She continued kneading the chunk of clay in her hands at the long table in the center of the room. “Do yourself a favor and do not pretend that I am stupid. I am no dim-witted child, Clea.”

  “I did not say that you were.” Clea stepped inside the cavernous room, flinching when the heavy door of wood and iron slammed shut behind her.

  Natosha rose and faced her as she shaped the clay with deft fingers. “It is written upon your face like soot marks white linen. Be careful of whom you trail after.”

  Clea scowled. “And closing me in here with you is supposed to make me frightened of you?”

  Her sister-wife smiled unpleasantly. “Oh, Clea…if I had wanted to frighten you I would have done something quite different than shutting a door without the use of my hands.” Her tone implied that she wished Clea would put that to the test.

  Her sister-wife walked forward, lacing her fingers together in front of her. She walked around the work table, peering down at the many different shapes upon it. “Hard at work on another creature?”

  “Well, the gods know I need something to bide my time. Besides, I am sure Eerich’s beast is craving something new to hunt.”

  A dark laughter erupted from the flames among the fireplace, and a deep voice whispered, “Something new to hunt…yes…”

  Natosha’s arms erupted in chills and Clea jumped backwards, grabbing a knife from her belt defensively. The laughter faded, and Natosha felt the presence go as well.

  Damn him, she thought to herself. She didn’t care for him watching her; it was creepy.

  Without a word, Clea drove her knife into the square of clay and broke off a piece. Setting the knife down, she too began kneading clay. The women worked in silence for a while longer.

  As Natohsa finished her creation, she felt as though some of her stress had been placed within the clay, leaving her body. She ambled over to a stack of shelves where they kept paints and peeked around to see what they had remaining. Picking a couple of colors, she took them back over to the work station and began to give her mud figure a more definitive look. The creature’s features quickly began to take on a more realistic quality. Even Clea gave it several appreciative glances as she was shaping the torso on her own figure. When Natosha had completed the clay mold, she placed it in the floor in front of the enormous fireplace. Waving her index finger from the crackling fire to the clay figure and whispering a few words, she gave it life.

  The two-headed cat-like creature stretched and broke apart its clay shell. Seeing the women, it darted off into a corner and swiftly scaled the smooth rock wall. When it stopped, it was peering down from the ceiling, its eyes aglow with a greenish tint.

  “I don’t share your apparent fascination with two-headed beasts,” Clea said softly.

  “You don’t share my interest in a lot of things.”

  “Like the enemy?” Clea’s eyes flashed in the firelight, surveying her reaction.

  Natosha strode over to her. “Watch your tongue, sister-wife.”

  “You do not scare me. You disgust me. Taking the enemy inside you like some common tramp, and then letting his seed bloom within you. What in the bloody hell were you thinking?”

  “I had a plan,” Natosha seethed through clenched teeth. “The pregnancy was not a part of it, but when I found out I could have easily worked it into my design given the time.”

  Clea chuckled. “Time? You know the wives of Rohedon do not have normal pregnancies. Our children grow within us and are ready to be free of their womb in just a couple of months. You are already at least a couple of weeks in—your belly has started to swell. There is no time for a child of the enemy to be within you when we are at war!”

  Natosha flung her arm up and Clea went sailing backwards and up, smashing into the rock wall with force and staying several feet above the ground..

  “Keep testing me, Clea, and there will be one less witch in this mountain to defend our Realm.”

  Clea spat at her feet from her position against the wall. “The deepest pits of Eerich’s Underworld await us, Natosha. I can’t wait to see you there, writhing in agony by his cruelties. If you send me there first, I shall make sure you are worse off than I.”

  Suddenly, she fell to the ground. Natosha looked at her hands with a puzzled expression. As Clea picked herself up from the hard floor with a groan, the deep voice resumed its laughter.

  Eerich appeared at the work table, picking up the clay model that Clea had been shaping. “It’s never a good thing when your magic fails, is it, dear Natosha?”

  She glowered at him in response, her cheeks flushing.

  Clea screeched and threw her hands out at Natosha, sending the other woman sprawling near the door. Just as abruptly, the magic stopped pushing the downed woman; this time it was Clea who appeared confused.

  “The thing about your magic is that it’s mine,” Eerich said conversationally. He used his magic to bring the clay figure on the table to life. As soon as it began to move he crushed it to pieces in his hand. “Rohedon made a bargain with me and I kept my word on my part. You witches may have been born with a bit of magic in you already, but I’m the one who caressed it into a fiery ball of power yearning to be used. But, as with all bargains, there is always a downside. In your instance, Rohedon said that when he died, I could take your powers back at my whim whenever I so chose to do so. I am only trying to make it entertaining for myself.” He rotated his head to stare at Clea. “And for your information, witch, you and your sister-wives were mine before you even consecrated your marriage to that idiot Rohedon. He gave you to me like cattle—each and every one of you. And when I choose to take you to the Underworld with me, trust me I will do whatever I’d like for as long as I’d like. So while you are sitting here bickering and throwing each other about…I’m scheming of unique ways you will spend your eternities underground. Now, you two have an enjoyable evening.”

  He disappeared.

  It had been a trying day. Keelan wiped sweat off his brow and glanced around. The army had stopped for the night and was making camp. It was late, and the sun had already set. Hundreds of stars blazed in the sky, and a crescent moon shed little light on the scene below. Many dozens of fires had sprung up, but there were only a few lucky enough to cook meat. The army had exhausted its supply of cattle and other livestock they had set out with; this had been an obvious inevitability, however he’d wished it had lasted a bit longer.

  “Are you all right, husband?”

  His wife stepped out of the darkness and his heart jumped at seeing her reaching out to him. He took her hand and led her to sit beside him on the rock he was perched upon.

  “I am better now, but then I am always better with you by side.”

  Silvia blushed. “You are too kind, my Lord.” Her smile diminished as she rubbed his hand with her thumbs. “How are you feeling?”

  Keelan laughed and leaned back. “I feel fine—right as rain.” The look of concern on Silvia’s face took away his laughter. “Why do you keep asking me if I’m okay?”

  She readjusted her position on the rock, looking uncomfortable.

  A voice from behind made them both turn their heads.

  “Because the witch’s powder has made you sick, Your Highness.”

  Lord Cambry approached, trailed by Prince Dalton, Sir Grant, Zander, the Duke, and Hans. All wore determined expressions.

  “What are you talking about? What powder?” Keelan asked.

  Cambry was blunt in his response. “I believe that Rohedon’s witch has been using a powder called drepsam on you that makes you unaware of the wrongness of your actions when you are under its power. But I believe it also deteriorates your state of mind. In fact, I think they’ve used too much of it. It’s made you sick, King Keelan.”

  The king’s jaw clenched. “I cannot believe what I am hearing! How can I be sick when I feel normal?” He stood up and danced arou
nd a spot on the ground. “Do I look like I am anything other than your usual king? I am up walking, talking, and being active in my army. What more is it that you want from me?”

  “My Lord, this is not a sickness that you can see,” Zander tried to explain. “Think of it as a disease of the mind. Your thoughts have been more disheveled as of late, have they not?”

  Keelan wasn’t about to admit to any such thing. “My thoughts are as clear as any other day, Zander.” But he knew what was coming next.

  “What about the flying rabbits you saw today?” Duke Byarne asked nonchalantly. In any other situation his expression would have been comical.

  “I only told you what I thought I saw, and I didn’t want anyone to be in danger.”

  “In danger from rabbits that can fly?”

  “I feel as though you are mocking me,” Keelan said.

  “And what of the rashes you saw all over your body yesterday?” Silvia asked, touching his arm gently. “No one else could see them but you.”

  Keelan felt his face redden, but tried to see the reason behind their disquiets. “So if these things are so-called effects of Natosha’s powder, how do I fix it? What will make these apparitions go away?”

  After uneasy glances amongst each other, Lord Cambry stepped forward. “We do not know if there is anything that can help. I would assume that with time it will work its way out of your system, but there is no way of knowing for sure.”

  A heavy weight seemed to settle on Keelan’s chest. “Then what can we do?”

  “We were thinking of having someone watch over you day and night, Your Highness,” Hans said. “We want no more harm to come upon you. Let us do this much at least to try and help you.”

  Shame filled Keelan. “This is insane,” he muttered. “Is it so bad that you must stand guard over me as though I am a young child?”

  Duke Byarne stepped forward. “You are no child, Your Grace, but your health is of the utmost importance to your people.”

  This time it was Silvia who spoke. “Let us watch over you, Keelan. He’s right. You’re the King of Lystia—your safety is top priority in this venture to war. And I cannot go home without my king.”

  The last words were spoken with such emotion that Keelan would’ve done anything in the world for his wife. “I’ll do whatever needs to be done. You will go home with your king, Silvia.”

  She gave him a smile, complete with watery eyes, and stood up to take his hand. “Come, my love. I shall take first watch.” She glanced at the others. “Someone please relieve me in a couple of hours so that I may take my rest as well.”

  The small group of men bowed, and the Lystian’s leaders went inside the tent which had been pitched for the king. Keelan disliked the fact that Silvia still insisted upon sleeping in a separate tent, however he was trying his best to give her the healing space she still needed. Besides, he’d heard that she’d been going out night after night to do aerial sweeps of the land, and she had stated matter-of-factly that she’d been afraid it would disturb his slumber.

  He undressed and changed into a pair of lightweight cotton breeches to sleep in and placed his sword next to his body on one side, and a dagger on the other side. Silvia fluffed up a pillow for him and began to wave a fan of leaves over him. It had been a parting gift from Duchess Tinaya: made of giant leaves that were attached together with silken ropes and dipped in a light resin, the fan was wonderful for cooling off. Keelan stared at his wife as he began to relax for the first time all day. Her hair had been pinned up high earlier in the morning, but the wind and horse-riding had loosened many locks of her curly red mane. They fluttered about her face and neck as she moved the fan up and down. She took no care for her own discomfort in the heat: sweat beaded on her brow and her dress had water marks all over the top half where she had sweated through the cloth.

  “Any man in his right frame of mind would be infinitely lucky to have you as his queen. How I got to be that man is quite beyond me.”

  Silvia moved the fan up and down continuously as she spoke. “You have earned such an honor, darling. I could not dream of being a queen without you as my king.”

  He sighed, and watched her with lids that were beginning to get heavy. “There may come a time when you have to do just that, Your Highness.”

  His wife frowned. “Do not speak of such ill tidings.”

  “I speak the truth. What if that day should come to pass? I could not bear leaving you, but if anything should ever happen to me, I want you to remain the strong queen that you are.”

  “Nothing will happen to you Keelan—of that I am sure.”

  A feeling of unrest settled over him. “Silvia, I am not sure that you are right this time. Something feels…off. I just want you to be prepared.” He thought about Aldoa and all of her predictions. Had she told him everything? The nagging feeling didn’t seem to want to go away. “What if the gods are not telling us all we need to know?”

  The fan stopped. “The gods tell us what they see fit. If they choose not to disclose something to us then it is only because we are mere mortals—a tiny speck of dust floating through their lifetime. We could not begin to fathom the vast knowledge their minds contain. Maybe they neglect to tell us some things because it is all that our minds would focus upon, leaving the important things we are meant to accomplish to chance. Besides, why need you worry when I am here to protect you, my King?”

  A grin touched this face and his eyelids began to droop more. “Do you know…I used to fantasize about rescuing you?” He chuckled, thinking of the memories. “I’ve longed for you since I first laid eyes upon you, milady. I would daydream about coming to your aid and fighting all of these evil things away from you. In my dreams you would throw your arms around me and tell me you’d never let me go…” His voice became softer. “I never dreamed that one day I would be doing just that—fighting the evil away. Still waiting on you to tell me you’ll never let me go, though.”

  He felt her arms around him immediately as she embraced him, whispering the words he’d long cherished to hear. He let sleep overtake him as happiness surrounded his heart.

  A few hours later Hans and the prince approached the king’s tent at the same moment, both intent on taking the next watch.

  Dalton raised an eyebrow at Hans’ glare. “Sir, is there something you wish to get off your chest which concerns me?”

  The older man swallowed, and his expression changed to one of uncertainty. “I do not trust you, Prince Dalton. But I fear that I must do so now.”

  Dalton’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you not trust me? Have I wronged you or your masters in some way?”

  Begrudgingly, the manservant shook his head. “You have not that I have seen.” His voice took on a whisper and he stepped forward; he did not want Their Majesties to hear him if they were still awake. “I have seen you with my Queen, Prince Dalton. I have raised that little girl and she is closer to me than my own child would be. When I see men’s eyes turn towards her with anything other than admiration and respect it gets my blood boiling.”

  “What are you insinuating, man?” Dalton said quietly, taking a step forward as well.

  Hans did not back down. “What I am saying is that I know you feel something more than those things for Silvia, and I won’t stand for you bringing shame upon her name—she doesn’t deserve it. So whatever that is, or isn’t, going on between you two…you need to be careful. I will support Her Highness until my last breath, but I swear to all of the gods that if you bring her pain or suffering of any sort, or if you should slander her royal name, I will kill you. I will hunt you down like a dog and I will rip out your throat. Is this understood?”

  Dalton stared at him in shock for several moments and then broke out into laughter. When he regained his composure he clapped the man on the shoulder good-heartedly. “I am so glad that she has people who care for her as much as you do, Hans. You needn’t worry about me doing anything to harm her. I would protect her just as you would.”

&nbs
p; “Perhaps you would protect her more fiercely than I,” Hans said.

  Dalton was surprised to see tears in Hans’ eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I am getting old, young man. You have a fire within you that for me has long since died out. If anything were amiss, you would be more likely to know it than I, for you are very much attuned to her moods and feelings. I ask that you care for her and always do what is best for Her Majesty. Can you do that? Would you do it for an old, humble servant such as myself?”

  Dalton took his hand and clasped it. “I would think of no better reason than for her happiness and well-being, which is what you seek. Consider it done. Although,” he said with a wink, “I was already doing that to begin with.”

  They quieted as both realized at the same time that someone else was speaking, and it was coming from inside the tent.