The Prince looked a little taken back, but then he remembered that this woman in front of him probably knew all there was to know about all things in the world. But despite his awe for her, he was angered. “Is that all we are to you? An ‘interesting event’? We are an army, milady, on a quest of great magnitude to save a city and defeat a mountain of evil for the good of this ‘slow-paced’ world we live in. Are you so bored that you have no compassion for such a mission? Is your heart and mind so light from being alive so long that you have actually forgotten what it feels like to live? By the Dark Moon, Aldoa, hundreds died today not a mile from here and the only thing you have to say is that ‘something of interest’ has occurred? Tell me you have more compassion than this! Tell me your spring has not chilled your old heart!” He stopped, swallowing some of his anger, and regained his composure, staring at her so intently that she set her knitting aside.
“Are you finished berating my cold, unseeing being?” she asked quietly. “For if you are, then I need to tell you some things of great consequence.” She awaited the nod she knew would come, then went on. “I am sorry you feel the way you do; however, if you were to walk in my shoes for even a hundred years you would feel the same. I do have compassion, young prince, else I would not be talking to those who need my help. All of you need my assistance, in some way or another. I wanted to speak with you because I felt you needed to be prepared for what lies in your future. Firstly, when the great battle is fought beware when the ground trembles beneath your feet for it will not be the earth itself, but the blind ones which live inside it. Also, a thing for which you long for will finally take place.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Prince Dalton said with slight exasperation. “Can you clarify any of this for me?”
Goddess Aldoa sighed, her light brown eyes closing momentarily. “I can only say what the stars reveal to me and from time to time even that is a blur. Possibly everything will become clearer in time, yes? As for right now there is another important matter which I must discuss with you. Are you ready?”
“What choice do I have but to listen?”
“Very well. A prince you may be at the present, but if events take a serious turn in the Realm of Rohedon you will never sit on the throne of Wexford as King.” She waited for the angry outburst which immediately followed.
“I am the First Born! It is my blood right!” he exclaimed. “My mother and father have ingrained the Rules of the Crown into me since I was old enough to walk on my own, and I mean to do right by them. How can I not be crowned? Will I perish in this ‘great battle’ you speak of?”
“No, you will not perish, so far as I can see,” Aldoa said softly. “There will be something else you will want more than the crown of Wexford, something you will crave much, much more. And there is someone who will be linked to you forever—a person who has a great destiny. The future of thousands will depend on them, so you must take great care of this person. Bestow your love to them and all will be well.”
As Prince Dalton walked out of her cave, Aldoa scolded herself. Why should she care for these humans? Their lives meant nothing to her…or did they? If they truly meant nothing then why did she feel so guilty? She had lied many times over the years (mostly to no-good peddlers and scoundrels that called themselves Lords and Ladies), so why should the fates of these young men and a vibrant young woman shake her so?
She almost wished she hadn’t lied to the one lad, and began wringing her hands in frustration. She told herself over and over again that he wasn’t supposed to know that he was going to die…Bad things happened to people who only thought of their own demise. They became mournful, restless spirits in their afterlives, sometimes violent and malicious. So it was a good thing she had not told him of his fate. Of course, there was a miniscule chance that the choices made would lead him down another path, but she knew in her heart that he would not take them.
Yet still the feelings of guilt lingered. And to what purpose? There wasn’t a thing she could do to stop his death from happening. Not one thing.
Queen Silvia ate, and ate well. The food was hearty and the fruit ripe, for it came from the land surrounding the Healing Spring of Aldoa. Aldoa…this was the goddess of her dreams—the ones she had just dreamt. And there had been another one, she thought…a weather-worn gentleman who looked hard as a rock. He had been wearing a strange leather vest plaited with tiny chain lengths. He wore a queer looking shirt of the same tough leather and sandals which laced up his calves. His skirt was held up through its loops by a wide belt ensconced with all manner of weaponry. On his back was strapped a tall broadsword nearly as big as himself and a quiver full of arrows with green and gold feathers. He had held a great long bow in one hand with green and gold string…
Silvia stopped trying to remember as Maura came in to take away the empty plates, moving soundlessly as always, but nevertheless breaking through her reverie.
“How is your head, Maura?” Silvia inquired, leaning on one elbow. She had allowed Maura to help dress her before she had eaten, and her light yellow dress pooled around her on the floor of the tent.
Her maidservant reached up to brush her bruise with her finger tips; she had acquired the nasty bump from being pushed off her wagon during the battle. “’Tis fine, Your Majesty, although I may slip down to the Healing Spring in a bit. I have yet to enter it.”
“You should’ve gone to the Healing Spring hours ago, my friend. You need to make sure you take care of yourself.”
“My place was here with you, milady,” Maura said humbly. “I would not have left your side without your orders with you being in such a physical state.”
“Are we interrupting, ladies?”
Quentin and Keelan entered the tent and bowed deeply. Silvia drew in a quick breath at the sight of her husband.
“Not at all, my Lords. I was just taking my leave,” Maura said softly. She hurried out of the tent with her head down.
The men waited patiently for the quiet woman to leave before seating themselves in front of the Queen. Quentin did not delay the reason for his visit, and immediately proceeded to thank Silvia for taking care of him so well and for saving his life.
She smiled at him warmly. “There’s no need to thank me Quentin, for you have risked your life for me many times before. I am glad to see your fever has gone and your color is once again normal.”
“And I am glad to see you alive and well,” he said solemnly. “I was frightened that you were going to die. I am sorry I failed you, milady.”
“You have never failed me.” By the Dark Moon, why did everyone seem to think that they had failed her in some way? “There is no need to apologize to me. If anyone should be saying they’re sorry it’s me. I came to try and rescue you and very nearly got us both killed.”
“I personally believe that neither of you should be sorry, for if given the chance you would do the same things over again,” said Keelan. These were the first words he had spoken to Silvia since her Healing. “I only wish that I had accompanied you from the beginning…a true King would have.” He looked down at his hands as his face reddened.
“I will leave you two to palaver,” said Quentin. He stood up and exited the tent.
Silvia knew not what to say. She didn’t even know what she felt for this man anymore. Her feelings were in utter turmoil. She hated him for betraying her, for giving himself to another woman so willingly…a woman they were hunting. And yet she loved him so much for coming after her, for meaning to do good by following her to her near death. Not many men would have tracked her just to be with her and protect her. But what now? How should she feel now that they were alone, face-to-face? What was there to say? She was too tired to argue about anything but all the same she wanted him to know that she would not just lay there and let him trample her with his treacherous infidelity, insulting her. She was about to say just this when Keelan spoke.
“Things would be much different had I left Lystia by your side, milady.”
“Would they?” she replied softly.
“I think so, yes,” he said. “Perhaps I would not have tasted the fruit which has poisoned our marriage.”
“Perhaps…perhaps not.”
Keelan looked at her with pleading eyes. “There are no words the gods have yet made to describe how sorry I am, Silvia. I do not even deserve to look upon your face.”
“Don’t talk such foolishness.” She averted her eyes.
“Maybe these are the only things I know to say.” His voice broke. “By the Dark Moon of Eerich, Silvia…I love you and I would go to the ends of the earth to show you how much you mean to me!”
Silvia could not stay her tongue. “And how much does your heathen bride mean to you?” she spat. “What does she give you that I cannot?”
“She gives me nothing! She means nothing, I tell you! Please believe me!”
“I have seen and heard much,” she answered quietly. I do not know what to believe. The only thing I know for sure is that I must see this quest to the end and try to save a city I know nothing about, and save a people who are not my own. If you wish to fight alongside me, then you may. I will not stop you. But if you betray us to your heathen queen, I will kill you myself—this I promise.”
Vyto and Gordy had fought side-by-side during the vicious battle, and had saved each other from the grotesque creatures while everyone else had been panicking and running. After visiting the Healing Spring of Aldoa they volunteered to help build a pyre for the bodies of the deceased. No one wanted whatever disease the beasts had to spread to the wildlife around them. A couple dozen more men and women were dragging dead trees into a broad, flat place near the middle of what had been the battlefield. The dead were being lined up beside this, awaiting the flames. Soon enough, someone struck a sulfur match and stuck it amidst the dead leaves and branches. It took several minutes for the fire to get going, for the wood was still a bit damp from the recent rain. Eventually the flames climbed higher and higher into the air, and the bodies were tossed into them, one by one.
As the two friends carried the plump body of a middle-aged woman who had died of blood loss, they heard a young girl crying hysterically nearby. They looked over to see a burly man with a beard, covered in blood and gouges, trying to hug a young woman. An older woman stood behind her, stroking her hair with one arm and stopping the flow of blood from her thigh with the other.
“You have to calm down, my dear,” said the man to the girl. “He died with honor, Hanovi.”
“He shouldn’t have died at all, Uncle!” Hanovi sobbed. “What shall we tell his brother, who now has no one left at all?”
The woman behind her turned her about, shushing her as she gave the girl a bone-crushing hug. “We will take care of young Jason when we return, child. But you must be strong. Jonathan would not have wanted you to cry for him, all right?”
Vyto glanced down to see what Jonathan had looked like. Quickly, he turned his head away, for the young man’s face had all but been eaten off; only jagged strips of flesh and one eye remained. Vyto’s stomach churned. The smell of the bodies was bad enough, but now that the fire was baking them to a crisp the smell was truly horrific.
Horace was pushing the two women away gently. “Take her away Karen. She has already seen more than she needs to. I will be with you shortly.” As the women walked away, the man bent over and picked up the body. “I’m sorry, lad,” he said to the body, and took him to the fire.
Gordy was watching the scene with large eyes. “Poor lass. I hope she’ll be all right.”
“I hope we’ll all be all right,” Vyto said. They tossed the woman as carefully as possible into the hungry flames, staring sadly as her dress immediately caught fire. Vyto gave his dirty pony’s tail a sharp tug and said, “Let’s go wash up, my friend.”
“I’m right behind you,” Gordy mumbled.
They headed towards the Healing Spring again to wash off any of the disease they may have contracted from the corpses. Along the way they saw a giant bonfire on the other side of the battlefield, topped with the disgusting bodies of the sick creatures which had attacked.
She was nearly asleep in a soft chair when he appeared out of nowhere. Over the years she had grown used to this, but as always his presence comforted her and eased her mind. She smiled at him from her seat and extended her hand to him. “It is always good to see you, Geldin.”
Her brother bowed his head to her, his golden hair flecked with gray, but did not step closer to take her hand. She retracted her arm, frowning slightly as he leaned his bow against the rock wall of her chambers.
“I am disappointed in you, Aldoa.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For not giving him enough information,” her brother growled. “You angered him instead of advising him. Telling him what he cannot have but not revealing his purpose!”
Aldoa sat up straighter in her pillow-soft chair, wary now. He was obviously angry with her over the young man. The last time Geldin had been angry with her they had went nearly three-hundred years without speaking to each other. She watched him begin a slow pace around the room.
“I cannot reveal everything,” she said harshly. “None of the gods are supposed to do such a thing and you know this. If the mortals knew all that we know—“
“I get your point, and it is valid. But what irks me is that you have two incredibly important people here who will forever change the future of this world and you have not prepared them in the least! I, too, have read the stars, and I know we are to help them much more than what we have. They are like naked babes out of their cradles without our guidance.”
“What is it you wish me to do?” Aldoa asked. She stood up and walked over to a vanity cut out of the rock wall, took up her brush, and began running it through her long white hair
Geldin stopped his pacing, staring at her intently in the mirror. “I believe you already know, sister.”
“I’m sorry, but I do not believe I understand what you mean,” she said innocently. She set the brush down and stared back at him via the mirror; for some reason she felt this would be easier than turning around to face her sibling.
“Of course you do,” he replied simply. He walked up behind her and gently spun her about. “You’ve been here far too long, Aldoa. It is time.”
Her eyes teared up. “But I don’t want to, Geldin! What will I do? How can I do this? No, I cannot go through with it.”
“You have to,” Geldin told her firmly. “You have no other choice, lest you wish for the stars to be wrong…about everything.”
Aldoa shook her head slowly as she stared at him, the tears now pouring from her ancient eyes. “I…I think I’m too scared to do it.”
He hugged her briefly. “I know how you must feel, sister. But you must be strong and do as the stars have foretold. We have to carry out the prophecy of the stars, or else bad tidings will overcome us all.”
“Why must you keep saying ‘we’?” she asked irritably. “After all, it’s me the stars are commanding to serve the tides of this age.”
“Aldoa, tell me exactly what you read in the stars about yourself.”
Her eyes seemed to look inward as she thought back. “Well, I saw myself amongst these Lystians, far away, helping to heal their wounded, give peace to the dying and counsel the living…all the while with a sword protruding from my heart like the shaft of an oversized arrow.”
Geldin nodded solemnly. “And did the sword look anything like this one?” he asked, reaching behind his head and drawing the massive broadsword out of its sheath with well-muscled arms.
Aldoa’s eyes widened in recognition and shock. “I didn’t realize they were the same! But brother, what does it mean?”
“It means that I will be your strength through the fulfilling of the prophecy. I will be beside you, all around you, and keep you strong from within you—just as I always have.”
“Y-you mean you will stand with me?”
“I will help you and this army, yes.”
He paused, then said, “Besides, I do not believe anyone involved in this can go at it alone. Fate is pulling so many towards their destiny…” He shook his head and thrust his sword back into its leather scabbard. “I must go and have a chat with a young man who needs our guidance. Rest easy, my sister-heart.”
Chapter Eleven: Words of the Gods
Prince Dalton swept back his black hair once more, almost resolved to pulling it back in a thong. He had even considered shaving it into a topknot like that Lord Cambry fellow. He pressed a cool clothe to his forehead and breathed deeply as he patted his face dry of sweat. Then he picked up his whetstone and continued to run it along one of his knives as his mind went over the events of the day.
Images of the ride up to the mountain pass with the Queen floated in front of his eyes, hovering between his face and the knife below. He saw the battle, then another ride to the pass in a frenzy…carrying the weight of the wagon down the mountain while the woman he had grown to cherish lay dying inside it. He saw again her husband coming to save the day where he himself had failed, and how the Lystians had carried their queen to the Healing Spring.
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