One such volunteer was the Lady Jillis. She had finished reassuring her friends that she had recovered, and thanked them for their belief in her, then tried to make herself useful in the aftermath. The hours flew by, as she carried water and fresh linen, helped to bandage and generally keep spirits up.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?”
Jillis looked up at the familiar voice, to find Prince Lugal hovering behind her.
“Your majesty.” She greeted, curtseying briefly, before turning back to the sling she was tying around a blushing soldier’s neck. “I’ve rested long enough.”
Lugal gave a small smile, “I’ve not been crowned yet, and I would rather you call me by my name.”
Jillis finished with her patient, and with a few kind words, moved on to deal with the pile of used bandages. Her brown eyes flicked up to the future king, bemused to find him here of all places. “Aren’t you needed at the palace? Doing... kingly things?”
“I’ve written missives, formalising my claim and inviting the regional governors and gentry to the coronation. There is an interim council in place, while we shape the proposal for a government. There are no needs more pressing, than those of the injured and displaced people.” Lugal answered. “Besides, everywhere I walk in the palace, nobles are coming out of the woodwork, vying for favour. One can hardly believe their previous liege is not yet cold in his grave.”
“Well, Lugal. If you insist on helping, grab the other side of this basket and help me cart it outside.” Jillis said, quite happy to order around royalty.
Lugal chuckled at her audacity, but obediently lifted the basket, heavy with blood-stained bandages. “I’m glad our paths crossed, Lady Jillis, I wanted the chance to express my... relief that you are well. I feared... we all feared for you.”
Jillis was glad to focus on shuffling past the makeshift beds, as a blush spread across her cheeks. “I owe my life to Samantha, and everyone that joined the battle. If we’re going to be friends, ought you not call me Jillis?”
Distracted by her big brown eyes, Lugal hit a table and stumbled, the picture of awkwardness. Across the tent, there was a tutting from one of the healers, but Lugal did his best to ignore them.
“I also wanted to apologise, Jillis. The engagement to Lady Samantha was poorly done, and I had not considered how it would damage our... friendship, and I am deeply sorry for any pain I caused you.” Lugal rattled off, while he still had the confidence to do so. “The arrangement we had has been ended. I mean, Samantha ended it, I mean-”
“I already know.” Jillis said quietly, saving him from further embarrassment.
They sat the basket down outside, next to a vat of boiling water.
“I can take it from here, your maj- I mean, Lugal.” Jillis said, knowing that her history as a maid was better suited to washing, than his royal princeliness.
Lugal saw the judgement in her eyes, and smiled, rolling up his shirt sleeves and getting started. “You forget that Cristan and I were without luxuries after our father died, we are no stranger to manual work.”
They worked in silence, washing the bandages, then hanging them to dry. After that, the healer in charge, set them tasks with various patients, most of whom were surprised to find their future king helping them. They were so busy, they hardly had time to speak to each other; and as the day wore on into evening, their energy began to flag.
When most of the work was done, the healer shooed them away to the palace, demanding they get some good food and sleep, and he didn’t want to see either of them until tomorrow.
They walked through the streets of the city, tired and blood-stained, hardly looking the part of nobility.
When the shadow of the palace loomed ahead, Losan stopped, wanting to say something now, before things became formal again.
“Jillis...”
Jillis paused, looking back to the prince, his normally rich brown hair was dishevelled, and his eyes betraying his exhaustion.
“I have to say something, now, before life threatens to interfere. I know I have no right saying it, and this is hardly a fitting time and place, but...” Lugal gently took Jillis’ slender hand in his own. “Jillis Deorwine, I want nothing more than to marry you.”
Jillis froze, both thrilled and mortified by the declaration. She slowly pulled her hand away. “I believe you, Lugal; but what you want might not be what the King needs. Every person of privilege will try to dissuade you from marrying a servant girl; they will throw every eligible lady in your path. Regardless of your feelings towards me, I will always be waiting for the day you set me aside again, for the sake of a political marriage.”
“Jillis, I am so very sorry for the choice I made. I knew it was wrong from the start, I should have never listened to anyone other than myself.” Lugal said, his hand reaching for her waist, wanting to keep her here for a moment longer. “I have loved you from the moment I met you. You are beautiful, the kindest and most honest person that I know. I know that you will be more than a wife to me, you will be a friend, and an advisor. When I thought I was going to lose you, I realised that no princess, or nobleman’s daughter could ever compare. So please, say you will be my wife.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s quite that simple.” Jillis replied with a smile, brushing past his hold and heading back to the palace, “I think you need to prove yourself worthy of me.”
“Worthy?” Lugal was speechless, after a moment collecting his thoughts, he jogged to catch up with Jillis. “I am to be the King of Enchena, the highest position in the land.”
“I can’t love a crown – cold, hard, inanimate object.” She mused aloud. “I want to know that Lugal is worthy of Jillis.”
“Very well.” Lugal struggled to find a suitable affirmation. “And... how do I prove myself to you?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something.” She replied with amusement, her gaze teasing as she ducked within the palace walls.
*****
The following week, the capital was abuzz with excitement, Enchena was due to crown its first benevolent king, a fact that brought both joy and scepticism.
The commoners filled the streets, and there were parties, music and celebrations that their city had been freed.
The nobles filed in with a wariness, not sure how they fit into the new court, but hiding it behind perfect smiles.
At the centre of it all, the Gardyn were jubilant, and not letting anything cloud their day.
The throne room was filled with rich colours and flowers, casting off the dark and imposing nature it had beneath King Hrafn.
In front of the rows of Gardyn heroes, and Enchenian nobles, the soon-to-be-king walked out of the antechamber, and stepped up onto the dais, his twin brother a few strides behind him. Lugal looked magnificent, he had the dark look of the royal line, and his handsome face was confident and calm. He wore a splendid gold tunic, with the black and red insignia of his house; his rich, red cloak swept the ground.
As Lugal took his place on the throne, Cristan stood to his right, acknowledged as his brother’s heir, until a son was born.
A priest of Minaeri stepped forward, raising the crown for all to witness.
“In the name of Minaeri, we name you Lugal, King of Enchena, and lord of the empire.” The man’s voice rang out clear and strong.
With that, the priest placed the crown on Lugal’s head; then stepped back and bowed to his King.
The amassed crowd rose to their feet and cheered, the nobles remaining sophisticated, but the Gardyn broke decorum by expressing themselves through noise. Lugal rose from his throne and made his way down the throne room, his gaze meeting Jillis’ as he passed her, a small smile cracking through his cool composure.
The cheer was picked up outside the palace, and carried through the streets, as the coronation was officially announced, the new king stepping out onto the balcony, and waving to his subjects.
*****
A grand feast followed, with music and dancing.
Prince Cr
istan moved away from the crowd of nobles congratulating King Lugal. He found his new friends congregating half-way down the hall, sharing drinks and laughter.
Cristan paused to let a servant refill his wine glass, then pushed in between Samantha and Captain Rinar.
“Cristan! How does it feel to be brother to the king?” Samantha asked loudly, her gaze a little hazy after the flowing wine.
“King Brandon, or King Lugal?” Cristan grinned at her well-meaning question. “I wonder if there will be many differences from the crowning of my elder brother, Brandon. I suppose there are two hundred years between them, and I don’t think Lugal plans to hunt down and kill me.”
“Oh…” Samantha blushed, “You get to be the king’s heir, Lugal obviously trusts and respects you.”
“Ah, we both know that is a temporary position. Lugal will have a son, as soon as he secures his bride.” Cristan replied, chancing a look towards Jillis, who hovered at the edge of the group, her eyes constantly moving to the new king.
Jillis turned back to her friends, noticing Cristan for the first time. “Cristan, for shame, you have left your brother to fend off the nobles alone?”
“Aye, m’lady, I’m trying to gently ease him into dealing with them on his own.”
Jillis looked up to the mass of people surrounding Lugal. “That hardly looks gentle. This is supposed to be a celebration, perhaps I shall venture forth and rescue him.”
Jillis smiled and walked up towards the king, her dark hair and red dress making a striking appearance, and causing many to pause and look her way as she passed. She walked up to the group around the king, and was quickly greeted and drawn into discussions. The men vied for the attention and opinion of the beautiful young woman, and Jillis replied as politely as possible. She met Lugal’s eyes, and hinted towards the floor where couples danced.
Relief shot through Lugal’s schooled expression. “Lady Jillis, would you honour me with a dance?”
The crowd watched as they stepped out, moving gracefully, drawing all eyes. Lugal leaned in and said something private that made Jillis laugh.
Cristan forced himself to look away. “Why should my brother have all the fun? Lady Samantha, would you care to dance?”
Samantha smiled, handing her empty glass to a passing servant. “I would love to, Cristan. I look forward to a dance partner that doesn’t have two left feet.” She replied, looking pointedly at Tobias.
The prince led out the young lady, her new silver dress sparkling in the candlelight.
*****
Later that night someone knocked on Jemma’s bedroom door. Jemma was still wide awake and giddy from the party. She kicked away the silken sheets and dashed across the large, luxurious room.
After the war, her temporary family had been reunited – thanks to Angrud, Saxton had survived, and assuaged some of his grief through battle. It only followed that the Marsh family had headed back south to their old village, to try and move forward with their lives. They had invited Jemma to go with them; but Lady Samantha had stepped in and insisted that she stay in the capital.
Jemma had been given a room in the palace; she had never experienced such luxury, and she rather hoped the stay would be permanent. At the same time, she hoped that she’d have the freedom to visit Saxton, Siarla and the girls on a regular basis.
Now, she opened the door to Samantha, and stood aside to let her in. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting anyone so late. Did you enjoy the party?”
“Yes, yes.” Samantha said distractedly, stepping into the room and fumbling a little as she took a seat by the darkened window.
This was the first time she had witnessed Samantha being drunk, and Jemma smirked a little.
“What’s up?” Jemma asked, then realised she already knew, “I had been wondering whether I’d ever get to go home, and now I don’t know if I want to.”
“Well, it’s all set. Now that the war is over, and a good king placed on the throne, our roles are over. It is time to go home. We will have an escort to Saviour’s Gate in the morning, where I will open a portal to England, so I can send you home.” Samantha replied quietly, her calm voice almost reluctant.
“Aren’t you coming?” Jemma asked, ”But why?”
Samantha shrugged helplessly, ”I haven’t decided yet. It’s hard to explain, but I don’t know where home is anymore.”
Suddenly, something dawned on Jemma, ”Samantha, I can’t tell you what choice you make, because an individual’s choices are not predestined.”
She half-smiled, ”I know, and I’m sorry. I tried to talk to Tobias about it but... he doesn’t understand. I want to go back, but I can’t imagine leaving.”
The two girls sat quietly in the room. The darkness gave a sense of peace, with only flickering candles as a source of gentle light.
“My mum, she’d practically drag me out of bed every morning,” Samantha broke the silence suddenly, her voice sad and a reminiscent smile touching her lips. “It was so easy to stay in bed when there was only school to get up for. My friends - Lucy, Sally, Rachel... they’ll have finished high school now, I wonder what they’re doing. Oh, the things we used to think important.
“Then every evening at home, crowding round the telly, waiting for my big sis to call. My baby brother, he- he’ll be four years old now... By Minaeri, all the things I miss; even the arguments with my mum and stepdad. My mum had an annoying habit of throwing my shoes out into the garden if I didn’t put them away...”
As Samantha calmly poured out her misery, Jemma sat listening silently. The young girl didn’t want to confess how much it pained her thinking of her mum, home alone.
Samantha broke off suddenly, but she appeared much more content. She jumped up from her seat, ”Sorry, I’m boring you. I only came to let you know about tomorrow.” Lady Samantha stood up and moved back to the door, ”I’ll see you in the morning, Jemma.”
Twenty-Five
It was an unusual affair the following day, many of the city’s inhabitants paraded all the way to the forest edge to see off the famous Lady Samantha and the young oracle, Jemma. But many city folk still feared the forest, and it was a much reduced number that rode the overgrown path to Saviour’s Gate.
It was normal for Samantha to be in the company of the Deorwines, Rian and the other Gardyn captains, and even Prince Cristan and King Lugal; but where they had gone camouflaged and soundless in the forest, they were now all dressed in the best that Enchena had to offer. They laughed and spoke freely, their noise hiding their sadness at a final parting.
Saviour’s Gate was hardly a clearing, but a place where the trees thinned enough for the party to crowd into the area. Jemma looked about, wanting to save her memories – this was the place that she had first entered Enchena; where she had first met Saxton and Angrud and started the adventure of her life.
Samantha regarded the area with her own sadness. Messengers had gone out into the forest yesterday to let Alina and Siabhor know that their human friend was leaving, but neither had been found, nor had they left any trace of their whereabouts. Samantha felt like a part of her was missing, knowing that the unusual friendships they had struck up were finally over.
The last farewells were drawn out, but it still ended with Samantha and Jemma clasping each other’s hands and staring into a seemingly empty forest.
Jemma glanced about uncertainly, looking for the vivid swirl of purple and black of the portal she had stepped through before.
“Don’t worry,” Samantha explained, “It is just more discreet on this side.”
She lifted her free hand to wave it slowly in mid-air, which thickened and rippled at her touch. Samantha made to step forward, but Jemma hesitated, gripping her hand tightly.
“I promise it won’t hurt this time.” Samantha said.
The two girls took a final look behind them, then stepped through the portal.
Samantha felt a comforting warmth wash over her and a peculiar sensation of not being alone.
“Whither to
now, Lady Samantha?” A thousand voices asked in unison, ”You have refused the crown of a great mortal empire, what else can you aspire to?”
Samantha knew who spoke to her, the immortal guardians, the divine beings.
“You have done too much to return to the life you once led. Yet your actions have proven your worth, you may join us and take Minaeri’s place.”
Samantha’s thoughts wavered and she thought of her friends she had left behind and the world to which she had to return, a grey life in comparison that threatened to consume her and shroud everything she had become. Samantha felt as though she would never feel happy again. “All I want is a mortal life where I can be myself.”
The voices fell quiet and Samantha felt herself to be of solid form again.
Jemma was completely unaware of any other beings. She became one with the mists of space and time and almost instantly stepped out to find herself in a small, familiar kitchen. Samantha stood beside her, and behind them was the black and purple vortex, still maintained.
An old woman was standing before them, leaning heavily on a gnarled walking stick. She was dressed in her best and smiled at the two girls, Gran then bowed her head respectfully.
“Gran.” Samantha wrapped her arms about the frail old woman, but quickly let go, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Lady Samantha,” Gran croaked, “I’m relieved to see you both return, relatively unharmed.”
The three women stood together in silence in the kitchen, their surroundings so normal that it amplified the surreal life they had led.
“Well, it is over now.” Gran was the first to speak. “To think Minaeri’s retribution would come within my lifetime. At least now my family can all rest in peace.”
Jemma remembered Gran’s sad story, of how she had no family left, and she felt compelled to give the old woman a hug.
“Oh, don’t pity me, dear.” Gran hugged her back. “Now, my only wish is to see the land we have protected before my time is up, I have spent years dreaming of seeing Enchena.”
The Oracle Page 21