by Lisa Bain
The Queen’s name came from the old Irish word for “dreamer.” Since few people could get the Gaelic pronunciation Ash-ling correct, she usually went by Libby. Although she did adopt an Ash Tree as part of her crest in nod to the name. In her youth she went by Elisabeth for a time, but one day decided that there was only room for one Queen Elizabeth in the world, and the one who was there first was a badass. From that point forward, it was just Libby.
After a brisk ride, Dale and Geoffrey reached the witch’s encampment the next morning. As they got closer, they could see her standing there in the clearing, waiting for them. Her short brown hair made her appear taller than she was. You could tell she had been pretty in her youth, before bitterness had taken its toll and sharpened the softness that used to be in her face. The look of recognition in her pale blue eyes as they got closer was mutual, and heart-breaking on both sides.
“Oh fuck,” Dale muttered under his breath as he looked at Geoffrey.
In that moment, Dale embraced the universal truth that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but couldn’t imagine how badly it would go. The evil witch was none other than Skarra Svensden, a princess that once vied for Dale’s heart. She knew that if he married Libby he would become King, but was convinced she would win in spite of that. When he chose Libby instead, Skarra threw an epic tantrum and promised she’d make him pay. She wasn’t a bad person initially, just a spoiled brat whose confidence was shattered when she wasn’t the first choice. Her parents had convinced her she was perfect, and failure was a lesson in humility she’d been protected from her whole life. That is, until the moment Dale chose Libby.
Libby outperformed Skarra in every area of life, except one. Despite an innate ability, Libby refused to pursue any training in magic. So Skarra was determined to be the unquestionable best at it, including the dark magic. When she saw Dale ride up, she was crushed. She’d hoped it would be Queen Libby and that she’d have a second chance with Dale. Now one of them was going to have to kill the other. She steeled herself for the fight ahead. That fucker made his choice, now he’ll have to die with the consequences.
Dale tried to take the high road and reason with her.
“Skarra, what are you doing?” Dale wasted no time on formalities.
“Hello Dalen, it’s been a long time. I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” She replied coldly. “Where is your lovely wife?”
“Why are you doing this, Skarra? It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Oh, I think it does. You brought this on yourself, you know. You chose wrong. Admit it. You know I would have made the better wife.” Skarra spat out the words as her anger came bubbling to the surface.
“Skarra, enough already. It’s been almost fifteen years. Have some self-respect.”
“Self-respect?” she screamed at him. “How dare you speak to me of respect. You humiliated me. You’re the one that will learn respect. You and that whore you married.”
Dale clenched his jaw in anger and determination. He glared at her, as he realized that talking was futile. He was furious that she was going to force him to fight her. He’d heard rumors that she had run off to study black magic and had moved beyond petty, selfish and manipulative to cruel and evil. He had his enchanted armor and a magical sword but wouldn’t leave anything to chance. The time for talking was over.
He raised his sword and without another word Hoss charged at a full gallop. He caught Skarra by surprise, who didn’t really believe he’d do it. His first run was successful; he pierced her heart. The look of shock on her face quickly turned into maniacal laughter as she used her dying breath to cast a curse on him.
“Say goodbye to your happy ending. Your love story is over.” Skarra sputtered her last words as blood trickled from her mouth.
When a wizard infuses a spell with their life force, it takes on a special power and is next to impossible to break. Without the enchanted armor he’d have been killed instantly. Instead, it slowly took hold and he slumped over in the saddle and started to fall off. Hoss knew something was wrong with his rider and had already started slowing up when Geoffrey flew into action. Dale was fighting against unconsciousness. The pain was indescribable.
“What did that bitch do?”
“I don’t know Dale, but we’ve got to get you home. Now.”
Geoffrey grabbed his king and heaved him onto the back of Dude before Dale passed out and became deadweight. He grabbed Dale’s sword and quickly chopped off Skarra’s head to make sure she wouldn’t come back as a zombie, and then he raced home, leaving Hoss to follow along behind. Nothing like standard military training to keep one prepared in these situations, and they didn’t have time for a zombie outbreak. He pulled out his new phone, a gift from Libby, and voice dialed Sean Perry, the Security Chief, with the details so he could apprise the palace doctors of the situation. Geoffrey was the Senior Knight, but as Security Chief, Sean took care of all the logistics. They’d both been friends with Dale long before he became King. He trusted them completely.
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness;
So, on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only
a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Tales of a Wayside Inn”
Belfast had always been good to Libby. So had her friend Dee. She was one of the few Normals who knew the Queen’s secret, although she’d never visited the kingdom herself. A typical Friday night would have found the two women at McHugh’s Pub to watch Dee’s husband Mark and his best friend Gary perform. But tonight, they were gigging at the Duke of York. And that’s where they were when Libby felt Dale’s injury.
Following protocol, Sean called Libby, but she already knew something was wrong. The moment the King was struck she’d felt it. She’d stopped mid-joke, turning pale and nearly dropping her drink, clutching her chest. Dee was alarmed, wondering if her friend was having a heart attack. When the phone rang, she could see the look of pain on Libby’s face as she received Sean’s report. Dale had been badly injured and was unconscious. Geoffrey was rushing him back to the palace, but it was bad. Libby needed to return immediately.
Dee helped Libby get outside the pub without much of a scene and get into the small alley behind the Duke of York so she could discreetly use the emergency portal. Despite being a clear summer night, a storm had opened up over Belfast. The alley was dimly lit and anyone who might have seen them would have seen two women walking in the rain, one helping her drunk friend who was leaning against the wall for support.
Libby quickly ran her hands over the Longfellow poem painted on the bricks and opened the portal back to the palace stables. She studied the poem. As many times as she’d read it, this time the words felt ominous. Then darkness again and a silence. Like her dream. She fought the sensation of drowning, the panic and edge of unconsciousness that threatened her. She felt sick and knew Dale must be in bad shape.
She looked up at her friend before she stepped through. “Thank you, Dee,” she wheezed.
“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “Just message me later and let me know you’re okay.”
Libby nodded and stepped through as a peal of thunder echoed through the narrow alleyways of Belfast’s Cathedral Quarter. A slight quiver in the brick wall was the only evidence that she’d been there. Dee took a deep breath and walked back into the pub through the side door instead of going around to the front, a perk of being a musician’s wife. Fortunately, the band was on break or she’d have been walking right in front of the stage. She’d never get used to the idea that magic was real or that her friend was part of a whole other world. When Paul gave her a questioning look from behind the bar, she told him that she’d put Libby in a cab and sent her home. The handsome bartender shrugged and tossed her a clean bar towel to dry off.
“Bit unusual to see Libby get that pissed, i
sn’t it, Dee? Ah well, nothing a good fry up in the morning won’t fix,” he chuckled.
Dee laughed in agreement, and slumped back into her seat at their stage side table to finish her drink. She was worried about her friend and gratefully accepted a kiss from Mark as he made his way back to the stage to finish that evening’s set.
When the call ended, Sean put the phone down. He stood there for a moment thinking about his friend. They’d worked alongside each other for years. He recalled the day Dale asked him to join the knighthood. It was a no-brainer. He was angry. Angry at himself for not going with them, but at the time the threat assessment didn’t indicate that level of response was necessary.
His face was getting redder by the minute. He needed to calm down. His wife was always on him to watch his stress levels and blood pressure. He took a deep breath and set to work preparing for a full roster recall. But first, he had to meet the Queen with a situation report. She should be back any minute. The emergency portal opened right into the palace stables instead of in the palace itself. In the unlikely event it was breached, they’d have additional time to prepare. In the event of a surprise attack, every minute mattered. Sean met Libby and gave her a briefing as they walked back to the palace.
“What the hell happened, Sean?”
Libby had gratefully taken the arm he’d offered when she stumbled. A solid 5’6”, she was a good head shorter than he was. From a distance it looked like she was leaning into his embrace. Instead, she was leaning on him for support as they walked. She was breathing shallow and struggling to maintain focus.
“Short version? It was Skarra Svensden. Geoffrey says Dale charged at her and pierced her heart, but she cast some kind of dying spell. He’s in and out of consciousness, but it looks bad. Libby, I’ve summoned the Royal Wizards and physicians. They don’t seem hopeful. We need to prepare for the worst.”
“The worst?”
“Yes. I’m sorry Libby, but my job requires I think in worst-case scenarios. You know the risk to the force field and the kingdom. I can see the toll his injuries are taking on you just looking at you. You look like shit, by the way. I want to believe in hope, but I wouldn’t be a very good Security Chief if I put all my eggs in that basket.”
Sean rarely cursed. Libby knew how worried he must be. She pulled back and raised her dark eyes up to meet his concerned gaze. “Right. Well, my job requires I think positive. But do what you need to do. I’ll support any decisions you make. My sole focus right now is Dale.”
Libby sat in silence, alone in her office, spinning her wedding rings around and around her finger like she often did when she was thinking. She was sweating and nauseated, and her heart hurt, so she knew Dale was still alive but that his condition was worsening.
She’d managed to get a look at herself in a mirror, and Sean was right. She did look like shit. She was pale and clammy, and the rainstorm that had opened up over Belfast as she was leaving had caused her mascara to run all over her face. Her hair was a stringy mess and her sassy night out attire was wrinkled and looked ridiculous under the circumstances.
She felt the sinking, cold foreboding and returned to the dream warning where she was drowning. She’d released Sean to make preparations to recall the knights and the Senior Lady-In-Waiting, the head of the elite all-female security team that protected the royal family, back to the palace. The logistics of housing an additional twenty soldiers and horses fell to him since he oversaw the training barracks and armory. She paused, dreading the phone call she had to make, but Dale’s sister Kendra deserved to hear from her directly. Brushing her dark hair out of her face, she picked up the phone to deliver the news.
Kendra was remarkably calm as Libby explained the little she knew, but she and her son, Kurtis, immediately set out for the palace. They lived on a horse ranch half a day’s ride away and would arrive shortly after Dale. It would be months before they’d return to stay at the ranch again.
Libby buried her fear deep and immediately burst into action. She knew that Geoffrey would be arriving with Dale shortly and was determined to have as much ready as possible. Her father had often jokingly referred to her as his Hurricane–which became HurriQueen after she’d assumed the throne–when she got into one of these bursts of action. Today she was a category five, and the staff did their best to stay out of her way. It wasn’t personal and they knew it. Word traveled fast and they were all worried about King Dale. She’d left everyone abuzz and went to clean up and change clothes, so she’d be ready for Dale’s return.
Libby was pacing nervously in front of the palace when she felt the familiar pressure on the top of her head, and the lights zigzag across her field of vision.
“Oh no. Not now, I can’t right now,” she pleaded.
A lifetime of unwelcome spirit visits had taught her it was going to happen whether she wanted it to or not. She just didn’t have the energy to fight it this time. She squinted and looked around, trying to see through the lights, looking for an anchor to keep her steady. The pain in her head was getting worse. But then she saw him, standing at the edge of the group waiting for Dale. Her father. He was talking to her. She could feel her nose start to bleed as the vise around her head tightened further.
“Aisling Elisabeth, you must listen to me. There is a storm coming. A bad one. But you aren’t alone. You must stop fighting us. Let us help you.”
She felt clammy and fought back the waves of nausea. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, counting. In for seven. Hold for seven. Out for seven. Hold for seven. After a few repetitions, she felt the nausea back off and the zigzags fade away. The pressure in her head would last a few more hours, but when she opened her eyes again her dad was gone.
Larra, who was always nearby, discreetly handed her a handkerchief and she wiped the blood off her face just in time to see Geoffrey and Dale come flying up the drive, Hoss just a few paces behind. They’d bypassed the stables and come right to the main entry. Dale was still in and out of consciousness and Libby’s heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She shook off the uneasy feeling and the image of her late father, and got Dale ushered in and set up in their bedroom, with a full entourage of doctors and wizards.
“Ash?” Dale groaned as they got him settled in bed.
“I’m here, Dale. You’re home and safe.”
He mumbled something unintelligible as he faded back to unconsciousness. Libby took an unwilling step back to allow the medical team a chance to examine him.
Sean had been waiting with Libby, but he and Geoffrey retreated to the Knight’s Tower as soon as they were assured the King was in good hands. Libby would be well protected by Larra and they had work to do.
It had been a hot dirty gallop back to the palace with Dale. So, while Geoffrey was in the shower getting cleaned up for the frenzy of activity that was coming, Sean did his job. With the exception of Sean and Geoffrey, all the knights had other jobs and lived with their families around the kingdom. They came in for regular trainings but having them strategically located around the kingdom helped to provide a sense of security to the citizens without the need to maintain a full army.
One by one he made the calls that put them on standby to come to the palace. He sighed when he got to the last name on the roster, Morgan. John Morgan was the one knight Sean hadn’t had any input on, and the only one who lived outside the force field. Both the King and Queen had added knights to the Royal Corps over the years. There were always ten, and Sean kept his eyes open for future recruits as other knights retired or left the service. The Queen had found John on one of her trips to the outside world. As if he were one of her art treasures, she’d brought back a Normal man with no connection to her or anyone else in the Kingdom and made him her Queen’s Knight Grand Champion. Sean knew she had a reason for everything she did, but this was one he just couldn’t agree with. John lacked discipline and respect. The man was a direct descendant of the pirate Captain Morgan, and proud of it! It was an insult to the Corps.
He gritted
his teeth as he dialed, running his hand through his short blonde hair. The Queen’s Champion was flying down a mountain on two wheels when the call came through. It was a miracle he’d heard it at all but knew that it must be important, so he stopped to answer it. Few people ever called his private phone, especially not Sean. Usually it was Libby seeing if he wanted to pop in to Belfast for a night on the town, or his wife with an emergency at home.
“John Morgan, this is Sean. There has been an incident. All knights are on standby. You need to be ready to return to the palace on short notice.”
“You’re breaking up, Sean. I’m out in the hills right now. Did you say I need to be at the palace?”
“You’re on standby. You need to be ready to return.” Sean felt his face getting red with irritation at having to repeat himself.
He heard John start to explain he was out mountain biking and cut him off.
“The King has been seriously wounded. He may not survive. The situation is urgent. This is your duty as a Royal Knight and the Queen’s Knight Grand Champion.”
“For fuck’s sake, next time lead with that! I’ll be there for Libby. I’m heading down now.”
John rolled his eyes; he knew Sean didn’t like him, he just couldn’t figure out what his deal was and why he was so uptight. What a control freak, he thought to himself, as he flipped the face shield on his helmet back down and went barreling down the mountain on his bike. He had to get down the mountain anyway, he may as well have fun doing it. Like the rest of the knights he always had a go bag ready, so was already packed. Stand-by? Descendants of the one and only Captain Morgan don’t wait on stand-by. Nah, I’m going in to see what the heck is going on.” He’d say goodbye to his wife and son and then head to the palace.