“All of them are grown? Then your age is a mystery to me, young one. And where have they gone to?”
Rosenda wished she could take this whole conversation back to the beginning and reword her answers. She was making the voice more and more curious with each response. “Age-keeping is a family secret that is well kept,” she said truthfully, thinking fondly of her husband’s wives. “My children I hardly see, so I know not what they do.” Her stomach began to cramp and she hoped labor was not near. Her last child nearly killed her and she had a feeling this one might do the same.
“Does your husband not care that you travel in solitude?” The voice of the woman had changed, becoming less sweet and more firm. Rosenda thought she detected skepticism in it.
She tried to hold her tongue, but couldn’t help herself. “My husband was murdered,” Rosenda blurted out. “He was murdered by a woman of death!”
“Now, that sounds interesting.”
A rustling occurred a few feet away, and then someone struck a match to light an oil lamp. Rosenda started when she saw a stunning young woman before her, surrounded by five men. Every one regarded her expressionlessly, with just a hint of suspicion hiding in the twinkles of their eyes.
“So were you just wondering around in shock and got lost?” the beautiful red-headed woman inquired. “Or are you avenging his death?”
Heat flamed in the blonde’s cheeks and she averted her eyes. “As I first told you, my business is my own.”
“You may think so, but I find your business makes me uneasy.” The young woman frowned.
“And what is your business? What are you doing in the middle of nowhere with a legion of people following you?” Rosenda’s voice rose, the squeaking worse. “I demand to know, for it seems rather peculiar to me! Just what are you doing, anyway?”
The woman appeared unbothered by Rosenda’s words and so did not raise her own voice. “I am Queen Silvia of Lystia and I go to defeat Rohedon’s Realm in haste. I make this no secret; it is not hidden in the folds of my dress like some unspeakable thing. Had you asked my Royal Guards I had sent for you they would have said nothing but the truth as I have said it. As for you, my dear, you have acted queerly upon arriving in my wagon and have shown disrespect to me by not telling me everything I ask.”
Rosenda could not believe her ears or her eyes: The woman before her was no more than nineteen or twenty years of age, yet she claimed to be the Dead Queen! How could one so young and inexperienced lead such a massive army against Rohedon’s Realm and expect to win? Even if the entire army was well-trained they would not follow her blindly into battle—not a mere child like her! However Rosenda was nevertheless chilled to the bone, for this Dead Queen seemed very strong and defiant. She wondered what powers were locked away inside of the red-head, and how often they were used. Rosenda prayed fervently and silently to the gods that the ‘woman of death’ couldn’t read minds.
Quentin did not trust the strange little woman and felt no pity for her condition. He had never heard of a pregnant woman taking such a pilgrimage by herself. What parts of her story were true? Which parts weren’t? He decided to ask a few questions himself and hoped Her Majesty wouldn’t mind him interrupting.
“What name do you go by?”
She sensed trouble, a certain menace in the man’s voice. Was there any use in lying now? “Rosenda?”
“Where are you from?”
A slight hesitation. “Lordale.”
“Is this the city you are traveling from?”
The woman looked away and Quentin could almost smell her nervousness.
“Yes.” Her hands rubbed incessantly at her belly.
He believed this to be a lie and said as such.
“You’ve no right to be calling me a liar!” Rosenda said tartly.
He shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his white hair. “Was your husband from Lordale also?”
She shook her head.
“Then where did he hail from?” Quentin asked.
“I-I’m not sure,” she stuttered.
“What was his name?”
Rosenda blinked, her mouth dropping open. She attempted to regain her composure and answer, but he spoke again.
“Or did you not know his title either?”
She did not answer, merely staring at him.
“How was he killed? You spoke of a ‘woman of death’ but didn’t explain how it happened. Who was this woman?” He steepled his hands in front of himself and awaited an answer.
“She was an enemy from afar.” The answer was barely audible. “He died terribly. He was so frightened…but the pain was short-lived.” Rosenda was staring at the lamp with sad, unblinking eyes. “I’ve traveled so far to reach her.”
“Did you pass through Nillias?” Sir Grant inquired. The others looked at him with frowns, but he ignored them. What could it hurt to ask?
“Yes.”
“Which way did you go from there?” an eager Prince Dalton said.
“The mountain pass was the only way. The main road had a horrendous mudslide in one of the valleys, and it was impossible to go through.” Her voice trailed off.
The wagon was silent for several moments as the Queen and her companions looked at each other and at Rosenda. They were all thinking of Rosenda’s story, each forming his or her own opinion on it. Then the pregnant woman fell forward, screaming and clutching her stomach.
Quentin raced around the camp, asking everyone the same question until he found his answer. Then he rushed back to the wagon, which sat a little ways off from the Queen’s personal wagon, and nearly yanked Her Majesty out of it.
“What the devil is wrong with you?” Silvia demanded to know as he dragged her out of earshot of the wagon.
“I have dire news for you milady,” he replied, brushing his sweaty white hair from his face absently. “Rosenda speaks the truth about some of her story, but not the whole truth.”
Silvia’s eyebrows furrowed. “I had the same feeling. Tell me what you mean.”
A blood-curdling scream erupted from the wagon, announcing the slow coming of a child.
Quentin stared at the Queen. “I found someone in the army who has adequate knowledge of Rohedon’s dames. She is one of the wives of Rohedon, milady…and she is giving birth to a demon.”
Gordy was dancing with a gorgeous blonde woman in a field of purple flowers when he was rudely interrupted. The blonde vanished, replaced by a much larger blonde with brawny arms and a stern face. Although Gordy had stopped dancing he was still moving, for the blonde who was now before him was shaking his shoulders.
“Damn you to the gods, Gordy, wake up!”
Gordy’s eyelids flew all the way open and found that part of his dream had come true: a large blonde was shaking him…and he looked frustrated.
“What is it, Vyto?” he asked. “And please quit shaking my poor bones!”
Vyto complied and leaned back so that his friend could sit up. “I need your assistance.”
Gordy’s eyes lit up at the very mention that he was needed. “I’ll offer only my best,” he said.
The larger man glanced around, and then leaned close to Gordy’s freckled ear. “Laugh at me not when I say this, but I dream of things that happen in the near future and I call them visions.”
Recognition dawned on Gordy’s face. “Are you the one known to Her Highness as ‘the Dreamer’?”
“Don’t breathe a word of it to anyone else please,” Vyto pleaded. “I’m not well-acquainted with being put on any sort of pedestal, so I did not give Queen Silvia my name.”
“This is very exciting!” the red-head exclaimed. “To think that you are the one I’ve been hearing about these past few days! So what is it that you need?”
“I had another vision. I wrote it on a piece of parchment, but I need someone to deliver it to the Queen or one of her Guards by the name of Stefan. Will you bear this to them?”
“Only if you tell me of your vision in great detail upon my return
.”
He could tell that Gordy would take the Queen the parchment even if he didn’t agree to disclose his vision. However, Vyto saw it as a small piece of satisfaction to his big favor and agreed to tell Gordy everything he could remember. He extracted the carefully folded parchment from an inside breast pocket and handed it to him. “Let no one else lay eyes on it!” Vyto said fervently.
“You have my word,” replied Gordy, and he quickly began to make his way through the army. A lot of people were napping or massaging their well-worn feet; most were grumbling about the delay and were wondering aloud what was holding them up from marching on. He wound through the crowds until he came to what looked like the Queen’s wagon. A Royal Guard approached him right away.
“Have you business here, sir?” he asked Gordy.
“Well, um, yes. Are you called Stefan?”
The Guard looked at him closely. “No. Stefan is making rounds with the Commander of the Royal Guard.”
“Then is Queen Silvia available?”
Suspicion swam into focus in the Guard’s eyes. “What have you to say to Her Highness?”
“I bring urgent news to my Queen from the Dreamer,” said Gordy. He desperately hoped this man would give him no trouble. What was the saying—cut not the throat of the messenger lest you cut your own?
The Guard nodded and told him to stay put.
“Giving birth to a demon?” Silvia whispered.
“Possibly,” said Quentin just as quietly, for the woman had ceased her screaming for the moment.
“Your Highness, there is a man here who says he brings important news from the Dreamer,” said a Guard who had come up to them.
“What a rude way to interrupt your superiors,” the Queen said, whirling on the Guard. “You could at least say ‘excuse me’.”
The man looked abashed and bowed. “A thousand apologies, milady,” he stuttered.
Silvia rolled her eyes. “No use in apologizing to me now,” she said. Her mood was not one to be tested. “Bring me this man of which you speak.”
Moments later Gordy stood before the radiant leader of his people. He made a short, crude bow and handed the Queen the folded parchment from his friend.
Quentin peered over her shoulder as she unfolded it and read it to herself.
“My Queen—
I dreamed of a great creeping sickness that travels silently to us. Many will die if it’s not stopped. A strange path also appeared to me in my dream. Evil awaits on this path for us, but we must take it and meet our fate or else the evil will fall on us from behind on our way to Nillias. Also, the birthing woman is related to the evil on the strange path. She must be killed before the path is taken so that the evil won’t be twice as strong.
And let her not birth her child.
Humbly Yours—
‘Dreamer’”
“He’s sort of vague, isn’t he?” she said to her brother-in-law, who nodded in agreement. Turning back to Gordy she said, “Tell him his words have been heeded and he is well-appreciated. If he so wishes to reveal himself, I would make sure he is well taken care of.”
“I will tell him, Your Majesty,” he said. He bowed crookedly once more and departed.
“Now, what else have you to tell me of Rosenda and her child?” Silvia asked when Gordy had gone.
“Well, her name rung a bell—perhaps I had heard Gregorich Hapshamin mention it in passing—and I went about the army until I learned the names of all the wives of Rohedon. They are as follows: Rosenda, Clea, Zela, Saris, Natosha, and Emaree.”
“Wasn’t Zela the name of the raven you said visited Gregorich on his balcony?”
“Yes, it was, milady.”
Silvia was shocked as she recognized Natosha’s name as the woman with whom her husband had cheated, but said nothing on it. She did not wish to dwell on such things now. To think of the enemy bedding her husband was too much.
“I also learned three things about these women that might help us.”
“Get on with it, Quentin, for her labor progresses,” Silvia said. She had a bad feeling that something terrible was about to happen soon.
“Okay,” he said, once more brushing his hair out of his face. “The ones named Saris and Natosha are supposed to be twins, though with different hair colors, and they’re the most powerful of the six. The one named Emaree is rumored to have been kidnapped by Rohedon and forced into marriage. She is believed even now to be held captive and is never allowed to leave the mountain in which they dwell.” He leaned forward and began to whisper again, although it was unlikely Rosenda would hear them over her own moaning and yelling. “Rosenda doesn’t have much magic to offer, I was told. But she does do one incredible thing: Every time she has taken Rohedon’s seed she has given birth to a demon. Her labors are short and excruciatingly painful and the demon comes quickly.”
Silvia felt nauseated. “So the Dreamer was right…she needs to be killed.”
Quentin nodded. “But she needs to be done away with now. If no one else can do it, I will.”
The Queen took a deep breath and shuddered. The day suddenly seemed a little colder.
Another contraction hit her stomach and she howled with pain. It wouldn’t be long now. Colors swam before her eyes as she lay in the wagon atop the table secured the floor. The two mid-wives the Dead Queen had fetched went in and out of focus. They spoke to her and each other often, but Rosenda could barely hear what they said even as they commented on the absence of one of her nipples. She was soaked with sweat despite that the women had stripped her of her clothing for her comfort.
Her first two ‘children’ took several hours to birth. They had been loyal and easily taught to obey during their short lives. Her third had been very difficult to birth and to tame, and a close eye had to be kept on her.
Visions of her last childbirth kept dancing in front of her and she remembered what had happened: the labor had hit during dinner. Saris and Natosha had rushed her off to a private room somewhere in the mountain, where she purged her food.
But this child was different and had come out almost too quickly. As soon as he was free of her body he turned and bit her umbilical in half. His bat-like ears had twitched when he heard Saris and Natosha gasp, and he rounded on them. He crouched, ready to spring at them, but Rosenda had called to him. His head turned and he gazed at her with what she thought had been affection…
It turned out to be hunger. The little demon had jumped atop her belly, eliciting a scream and had reached down with his head to bite off her nipple. This he swallowed and he was eyeing her bloodied breast with wide eyes when Saris and Natosha had used their powers to bind him. He was taken away, and she never saw him again. They had told her he was somewhere safe and would be taught to obey as the others had.
But Rosenda had always doubted that story. She believed the twins killed her son, and despite of what the child had done to her after exiting her womb, she had still loved him and had wanted no harm to fall upon him.
Now she was birthing her fifth and she was more than a little frightened. If the child was captured it would surely be killed. She would be killed anyway, no doubt, so her only concern was that her child escape unharmed. If the child could kill both of the mid-wives before they screamed, then it could feast on them and be well fed before escaping…
Suddenly the pain in her stomach grew even more intense and the child began to push its way out. She used the little magic she had to make both women faint as her child’s head came out. With one last scream, it was born.
Outside, all heads turned towards the sound.
“Oh no,” Quentin whispered, “it’s out.”
Chapter Six: The White One Attacks
King Keelan and Lord Cambry halted in the early afternoon so the horses could catch their wind. During a quiet meal of mutton and raw vegetables they were interrupted by one of Cambry’s men. The man was a tracker and had found some curious prints. They followed him to see the strange tracks immediately. The heel print was light,
and the toe prints were heavy. There were three long toes on each foot and what appeared to be knuckle prints in the earth too.
“What manner of creature makes such a mark?” Keelan wondered aloud.
Lord Cambry looked at him gravely. “One that would bring great harm to your wife.”
Keelan looked up at him sharply, fear dancing in his eyes. “How long have these creatures been tailing my Queen? Tell me!”
Cambry glanced at the tracker, who answered quickly.
Of Gods and Dragons Page 7