A Rule of Queens

by Morgan Rice

  “I should kill you, boy,” he seethed, “for lying to me.”

  Darius felt a dagger pressed against his throat, felt the commander pushing it against his skin, and he felt that he just might.

  Instead, Darius suddenly felt a tug at his hair, his long, unruly ponytail being pulled back, and suddenly he felt the blade touching his hair—his hair which he had never cut since birth.

  “A little something to remember me by,” the Commander said, a dark smile on his lips.

  “NO!” Darius yelled. Somehow, the idea of his hair being cut affected him more than his being lashed.

  The village gasped as, in one clean cut, the commander yanked back his hair, reached up, and sliced it all off. Darius hung his head low. He felt humiliated, naked.

  The commander severed the cords binding his ankles and feet, and Darius collapsed to the ground. Weak from the beating, disoriented, Darius felt all the eyes of his people on him, and however painful it was, he forced himself to his feet.

  He stood there proudly and faced the commander, defiant.

  The commander, though, turned and faced the crowd.

  “Someone is lying!” he boomed. “You have one day to decide. At daybreak tomorrow, I will return. You will decide if you want to tell me who killed this man. If you do not, you will all, each and every one of you, be tortured and killed. If you do, then I will only cut off the right thumb of each of you. That is the price you pay for lying here today and for making me return. That is mercy. Lie again, and by my soul, I swear it, you will learn what it means to have no mercy.”

  The commander turned, mounted his zerta, signaled to his men, and as one, they took off, charging back onto the road from they came from. Darius, his world dizzy, dimly saw his brothers, Loti, all of them rush forward, reaching him just in time, as he stumbled forward and collapsed into their arms. How much can happen, he thought, looking up at the sun before he lost consciousness, before a day breaks.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Godfrey, joined by Akorth, Fulton, Merek and Ario, marched down the dirt road leading to the great city of Volusia, and wondered what on earth he had gotten himself into. He looked about at his unlikely companions, and knew he was in trouble: there were Akorth and Fulton, two drunken slobs, good for witty banter but not much else; Merek, a thief who stole his way through life, cheated his way out of the King’s dungeons and into the Legion, good for his back-alley connections and his sleight of hand, but little else; and finally, Ario, a small, sickly-looking boy from the jungles of the Empire, who looked as if he’d be better suited in a classroom somewhere.

  Godfrey shook his head as he considered the sorry lot, the five of them a pathetic group, the most unlikely heroes, setting out to achieve the impossible, to enter one of the most barricaded cities in the Empire, to find the right person to pay off, and to convince them to take the gold that even now weighed him down, hanging in sacks on all their waists. And with Godfrey himself as their leader. He had no idea why they put their trust in him; he didn’t trust himself. Godfrey would be surprised if they even made it past the city gates, a feat which he still had no idea how he was going to accomplish.

  Of all the crazy things he had done, Godfrey did not know how he had gotten himself into this one. Once again, he had stupidly allowed his rare and uncontrollable streak of bravado to take over, to possess him. God knows why. He should have kept his mouth shut and stayed back there, safe with Gwendolyn and the others. Instead, here he was, practically alone, and preparing to give his life for the villagers. This mission, he felt, was already doomed from the start.

  As Godfrey marched he reached out and grabbed the sack of wine again from Akorth’s hands, taking another long swig, relishing the buzz that went right to his head. He wanted to turn back, more than anything. But something inside him could not. Something in him thought of that girl, Loti, who had been so brave, who had killed the taskmaster defending her lame brother—and he admired her. He knew the villagers were vastly outnumbered and had to find another way. And he knew from his years of fighting that there was always another way. If there was one thing he was good at, it was finding another way. It was all about finding the right person—and at the right price.

  Godfrey drank again, hating himself for being chivalrous; he decided he loved life, loved survival, more than courage—and yet somehow, he could not stop himself from doing these acts. He marched, sullen, trying to drown out the endless banter of Akorth and Fulton, who hadn’t stopped talking since they’d left.

  “I know what I would do with a brothel of Empire women,” Akorth said. “I would teach them the pleasures of the Ring.”

  “You would teach them nothing,” Fulton countered. “You would be too drunk, you wouldn’t even make it to their beds.”

  “And you?” Akorth countered. “Would you not be drunk?”

  Fulton chuckled.

  “Aye, I would be drunk enough to know not to enter a brothel of Empire women!” he said, breaking into laughter at his own joke.

  “Do those two ever stop?” Merek asked Godfrey, coming up beside him, an exasperated look on his face. “We are walking into death, and they take it all so lightheartedly.”

  “No, they don’t,” Godfrey said. He sighed. “Look at the bright side. I’ve had to put up with them my whole life; you will only have to put up with them for a few more hours. By then we should all be dead.”

  “I don’t know if I can stand a few hours more,” Merek said. “Perhaps volunteering on this mission was a bad idea.”

  “Perhaps?” Akorth scoffed. “My boy, you have no idea how bad it was.”

  “How did you think you could contribute anyway?” Fulton added. “A thief? What are you going to do, steal Empire hearts?”

  Akorth and Fulton broke into laughter, and Merek reddened.

  “A thief is quick with a hand, quicker than you’ll ever be,” he replied darkly, “and it takes far less to slit someone’s throat.” He looked right at Akorth, meaningfully, as he began to pull his blade from his waist.

  Akorth raised his hands, looking terrified.

  “I meant you no insult, boy,” he said.

  Slowly, Merek put his knife back in his belt, and he calmed as they continued marching, Akorth more quiet this time.

  “Quick temper, have you?” Fulton asked. “That is good in battle. But not among friends.”

  “And who said we are friends?” Merek asked.

  “I think you need a drink,” Akorth said.

  Akorth handed him the flask, a truce offering, but Merek ignored it.

  “I don’t drink,” Merek said.

  “Don’t drink?” Fulton said. “A thief who doesn’t drink!? We are truly doomed.”

  Akorth took a long swig himself.

  “I want to hear that story—” Akorth began, but he was cut off by a soft voice.

  “I would stop there if I were you.”

  Godfrey looked over and was surprised to see the boy, Ario, stopping short in the path. Godfrey was impressed by the boy’s poise, his calm, as he stood there, looking out at the trail. He peered into the woods as if spotting something ominous.

  “Why have we stopped?” Godfrey asked.

  “And why are we listening to a boy?” Fulton asked.

  “Because this boy is your best and last hope to navigate the Empire lands,” Ario said calmly. “Because if you hadn’t listened to this boy, and had taken three more steps, you would be sitting in an Empire torture chamber shortly.”

  They all stopped and looked at him, baffled, and the boy reached down, grabbed a rock, and threw it before the trail. It landed a few feet in front of them and Godfrey watched, stunned, as a huge net suddenly shot up into the air, hidden under the leaves, hoisted by branches. A few more feet, Godfrey realized, and they all would have been trapped.

  They looked at the boy in amazement, and with a new respect.

  “If a boy is to be our savior,” Godfrey said, “then we are in bigger trouble than I thought. Thank you,”
he said to him. “I owe you one. I will give you one of those bags of gold, if we have any left.”

  Ario shrugged and continued walking, not looking in them, saying, “Gold means nothing to me.”

  The others exchanged a glance of wonder. Godfrey had never seen anyone so nonchalant, so stoic in the face of danger. He began to realize how lucky he was that the boy had joined them.

  They all marched and marched, Godfrey’s legs shaking, and he wondered if this sorry group would ever reach the gates.

  *

  By the time his legs were trembling with exhaustion, the sun was high in the sky, and Godfrey had emptied a second sack of wine. Finally, after so many hours of marching, Godfrey saw up ahead the end of the tree line. And beyond that, past a clearing, he saw a wide paved road and the most massive city gate he had ever seen.

  The gates of Volusia.

  Before it stood dozens of Empire soldiers, dressed in the finest armor and spiked helmets, the black and gold of the empire, wielding halberds, standing erect and staring straight ahead. They guarded a massive drawbridge, and the entrance lay a good fifty feet before Godfrey and the others.

  They all stood there, hidden at the edge of the forest, staring, and Godfrey could feel all the others turn and look to him.

  “Now what?” Merek said. “What is your plan?”

  Godfrey gulped.

  “I don’t have one,” he answered.

  Merek’s eyes widened.

  “You don’t have a plan?” Ario said, indignant. “Why did you volunteer for this then?”

  Godfrey shrugged.

  “I wish I knew,” he said. “Stupidity, mostly. Maybe a bit of boredom thrown in.”

  They all groaned as they looked at him, furious, then looked back at the gate.

  “You mean to tell me,” Merek said, “that you’ve brought us the most guarded city in the empire with no plan whatsoever?”

  “What did you mean to do,” the boy asked, “just walk through the gates?”

  Godfrey thought back on all the foolhardy things he had done in his life, and he realized this was probably close to the top. He wished he could think clearly to remember them all, but his head was spinning from all the drink.

  Finally, he belched and replied:

  “That is exactly what I mean to do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Reece opened his eyes slowly, feeling groggy from the red vapor drifting in and out of this place, and he looked around in the darkness of the cave. He realized he had fallen asleep, still sitting up with his back to the cave wall; before him he saw the small glowing fire emerging from the stone floor, and he wondered how long they had slept here.

  Reece looked about and saw Thorgrin, Matus, Conven, O’Connor, Elden, and Indra all spread out around him, all still lying by the fire. Gently, he leaned over and prodded them, and they woke slowly, one at a time.

  Reece’s head felt like it weighed a million pounds as he struggled to his hands and knees, then to his feet. He felt as if he’d slept a hundred years. He turned and peered into the blackness as he heard a soft moaning noise, echoing off the walls, but he could not tell where it was coming from. He felt as if he had been down here, in this land of the dead, forever, as if he’d been down here longer than he’d been alive.

  Yet Reece had no regrets. He was by his brother’s side, and there was no place else he’d rather be. Thor was his best friend, and Reece drew strength from Thor’s refusal to back down from a challenge, from his determination to find and rescue his son. He would follow him to the very bowels of hell

  It had not been long since Reece had been there himself, to that place of suffering, of grieving over a loved one. He lived with his loss of Selese every day, and he understood what Thorgrin was going through. It was the strangest thing; being down here, Reece felt closer to Selese than ever, felt a strange sense of peace. As he thought of it, he remembered he had been awakened by a dream of her. He could still see her face, smiling at him, waking him.

  Another moan rose up from somewhere in the blackness, and Reece turned and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, as did the others, all of them on edge. As one, they all began to walk, silently marching on, led by Thorgrin. Reece was famished, feeling a tremendous hunger he could never quell, as if he had not eaten in a million years.

  “How long have we slept?” O’Connor asked as they walked.

  They all looked at each other, wondering.

  “I feel as if I have aged,” Elden said.

  “You look as if you have,” Conven said.

  Reece flexed his arms and hands and legs. They felt stiff, as if he hadn’t moved in a very long time.

  “We must not stop moving,” Thorgrin said. “Not ever again.”

  Together they marched into the blackness, Thor leading the way, Reece by his side, all of them squinting into the dim light of the fires as they weaved in and out of the tunnels. A bat flew by his head, then another and another, and Reece ducked and looked up at the ceiling, and he saw glowing eyes of all different colors, exotic creatures hanging upside down from the ceiling, some on the walls.

  Reece tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, bracing himself for an attack, having a sinking feeling.

  As they continued walking, the narrow cave opened, widening into a large circular clearing, perhaps fifty feet in diameter. Before them lay a series of tunnels, caves extending in each direction. The clearing was well lit, fires all around, and Reece was surprised to see it open up like this, to see all the forks in the road.

  He was even more surprised, though, at the sight before him.

  Reece fell to his knees, overwhelmed, nearly collapsing, as he saw, but a few feet away, his love.

  Selese.

  Reece, eyes welling with tears, watched in awe as Selese stepped forward and reached out for him. She held his hands, her skin so smooth, smiling down sweetly at him, her eyes shining with love, just as he’d remembered. Gently, she pulled him to his feet.

  “Selese?” he said, afraid to believe it, his voice hardly rising above a whisper.

  “It is I, my love,” she answered.

  Reece wept as he hugged her and she hugged him back, each holding the other tight. He was amazed to be able to hold her again, that she was really in his arms. He was overwhelmed at the feel of her, the smell of her, the way she fit in his arms, just as he’d remembered. It was really her. Selese.

  Even more so, she didn’t hate him. On the contrary, she seemed to still have the same love for him as when he’d last seen her.

  Reece wept, overwhelmed, never having had such feelings in his life. He felt tremendous guilt for what he’d done, all brought back, fresh again. Yet he also felt love and appreciation for getting a second chance.

  “I have thought of you every day since I last laid eyes upon you,” he said.

  “And I you,” Selese said.

  Reece leaned back and looked at her, their eyes locking, and she looking even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her.

  Reece spotted something on her arm, and he looked down and saw a lily pad sticking to her sleeve. He peeled it off, confused; it was wet.

  “What is this?” Reece asked.

  “A lily, my love,” she said softly. “From the Lake of Sorrows. From the day I drowned. In the land of the spirits, our methods of death cling to us, especially if self-inflicted. They remind us of how we died. Otherwise, sometimes it is hard to forget.”

  Reece felt a fresh rush of guilt and sorrow.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve asked for your forgiveness every day since you died. Now I can ask you in person. Will you forgive me?”

  Selese looked at him for a long time.

  “I have heard your words, my love. I saw the candle that you lit, that you sent down the mountain. I have been with you. Every moment, I have been with you.”

  Reece embraced Selese, crying over her shoulder as he held her tight, determined to never, ever let her go again, even if that meant he
could not leave this place,.

  “Yes,” she whispered, into his ear. “I forgive you. I still love you. I always have.”

  *

  Thorgrin stood beside his best friend Reece, overcome with emotion himself as he watched Reece’s tearful reunion with her. He backed away with the others, all of them trying to give them their privacy. Thorgrin had never expected this. He had only expected ghouls and demons and foes; he had not anticipated loved ones. This land, this place of the dead, was so mysterious to him.

  Thor barely had grasped the concept when suddenly, out of one of the many tunnels leading from this clearing, there emerged another person, a man Thor knew well. He marched out and stood there proudly, facing the group, and Thor’s heart pounded as he saw who it was.

  “My brothers,” the man said softly, standing there grinning, the shining sword in his belt, just as Thor had last seen him. Thor was amazed. Here he was again, in the flesh, the beloved member of their group:

  Conval.

  Conven suddenly gasped and rushed forward.

  “My brother!” he yelled.

  The two brothers embraced, meeting with a great clang, each clasping the other’s armor, neither letting the other go. Conven wept as he embraced his long-lost brother, laughing and crying at the same time, and Thor saw his face, for the first time in moons, filled with joy. Conven was more exuberant than Thor had seen him since his brother died. The old Conven, filled with life, was back with them once again.

  Thor, too, stepped forward and embraced Conval, his old Legion brother, the man who had taken a blow for him and had saved his life. Reece, Elden, Indra, O’Connor, and Matus each stepped up and embraced him, too.

  “I knew I would see you all again one day,” Conval said. “I just did not think it would be so soon!”

  Thor clasped Conval’s arm and looked him in the eye.

  “You died for me,” Thorgrin said. “I shall never forget that. I owe you a great debt.”

  “You owe me nothing,” Conval said. “Watching you has been repayment enough. I’ve been watching all of you. Again and again, you’ve acted with valor. With honor. You’ve made me proud. You’ve made my death worth it.”