by Lisa Bain
Chapter
The Spirit Council Is Called to Order
Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn.
World serves its own needs, don’t misserve your own needs.
Speed it up a notch, speed, grunt, no strength.
The ladder starts to clatter with fear of fight, down height.
Wire in a fire, represent the seven games
In a government for hire and a combat site.
Left her, wasn’t coming in a hurry
With the furies breathing down your neck.
It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.
~R.E.M., “It’s the End of the World As We Know It”
The elderly Japanese woman was sitting in her kitchen sipping her tea when the alarm on the wall started beeping. Teruyo put down her crossword puzzle and pulled up a high-tech monitor to discover that the King had been critically injured in battle. He was alive, but not for long. She frowned and pushed the peacock-colored vinyl chair away from the chrome-edged table and shuffled across the black and white checked linoleum floor to the old enamel stove to put on the kettle, smoothing the silver hair in her neat bun out of habit. She knew she’d be joined by other members of the Council shortly. Their realm bordered that of the living, and they were intertwined. If the living world was destroyed, they would be too. They would soon be fighting for their own ghostly survival, ironic as that was.
The Spirit Council served as the advisors to the King and Queen in times of crisis, and could appear to them, and any other humans deemed necessary, while they were awake. Spirits usually preferred conversations in dream state, although they were less efficient. There were only five seats on the Council, but members came and went like players in an ice hockey game. It all depended on who had the skills needed for that particular play, and who the monarch was. Any spiritual being could be called upon to serve on the Council, and various incarnations included angels, ghosts, and other magical beings who had crossed over into their phase of the universe. King Dale wasn’t going to survive in the living realm much longer. As head of the Council, Teruyo knew that her granddaughter, Libby, would need as much help as she could get, but that she’d resist. She drafted those from Libby’s past, in the hopes the Queen would trust them more easily.
The first to arrive was the Queen’s father, Kokichi.
“Hello, Son,” she greeted him with a warm hug.
Kokichi was the newest member of the Council. He’d been dead less than a year but had taken his spirit training seriously. He’d already been communicating with the Queen via dream messages and other spiritual signs. Today was the first time he’d attempted to contact her while she was awake. Most new spirits took a lot longer to adapt and master skills like communicating with the living, but he had a willpower and determination in life that stayed with him in the spirit realm. This was, after all, the man who quit smoking cold turkey the day Libby was born. And even though the Council was only activated in times of crisis, Libby had seen and even interacted with members of the spirit realm for years. Mostly in her dreams, since she refused to acknowledge this particular talent. Libby had inherited both Kokichi’s willpower and the stubbornness that went with it. She’d inherited her other gifts from her mother’s side of the family.
“Hi, Mom. I saw Dalen. He looks bad. So does Aisling Elisabeth. I think she saw and heard me there, but you can never tell with her. How bad is it?” he asked. Her father and grandmother were the only two in her life who’d ever referred to her using both names, a habit they continued in death.
“Bad,” she confirmed. “But we will do our best.”
The other three members she’d summoned to the Council walked into the small kitchen together: a Japanese warrior woman in her twenties, a ginger-haired Irish grandmother, and a sandy blonde green-eyed toddler. Kokichi was the tallest at 5’7”, and the women barely made it to 5’. Even though they were energy and had no physical bodies, they looked more or less like they did when they were alive, retaining their physical appearances so that they’d be familiar to those left behind in the living realm. The toddler was an exception and was one of the few allowed to choose his own form.
As the five took their seats, the simple kitchen transformed into a high-tech military situation room. There were video screens surrounding the round table and monitors at each seat. It was an exact duplicate of the council room in the palace.
Teruyo stood and called the meeting to order. “Thank you for coming on short notice,” she began.
“As if we had a choice,” barked the boy. The deep smoky voice didn’t match the angelic baby face it came out of. Michael had been there a long time, almost as long as Teruyo. Maggie and Michie had been there centuries longer, but since Libby had never met them, Teruyo took the lead on the council.
Teruyo gave him a silencing glance and he stopped with a long-suffering sigh.
“Here is what we know,” she began.
She stood up and began gesturing at the largest monitor. “At 8:24 this morning King Dalen Martin was hit with a fatal curse. Skarra Svensden was killed and beheaded so we don’t have to worry about the threat of zombies, but this is a potential world-killer. The King will not survive. How long he has left is in question, but our Aisling Elisabeth is already shouldering the bulk of the force field. The Royal Wizards and doctors are monitoring both of their conditions. She is putting herself in a meditative trance a few times a day to help conserve energy. This will hold for a while, but when the King dies, we know that she will lose half her heart and all of his. Her survival, which is key to the survival of both the kingdom and our realm since there are no suitable heirs, is in question. It may be too much for her.”
Kokichi sat there frowning. It was hard for spirits to feel much sadness about death, since they knew that life continued, albeit differently. But he was still new, having died just eight months prior, and held on to many of his old emotions and feelings. He was worried about his daughter. Unlike when she was seven and crashed her bicycle, breaking her leg and losing teeth in the process, there was no way to make this better for her. Even then, she’d refused to cry in front of him and wouldn’t ask for help. There wasn’t much he could do to protect her now, even if she was open to assistance. She was going to have to weather the storm and figure out how to save herself and the Kingdom. By herself.
Maggie cleared her throat and ran her fingers through her short red hair before turning her bright blue eyes on their leader. She was a direct ancestor of Libby’s but was chosen for her magical knowledge and abilities over any tie to the Queen. “Fortunately, she doesn’t have to rely solely on willpower. What do you propose we do, Teruyo?”
Teruyo shook her head. “We will do all we can. Aisling Elisabeth is strong, but she will need all of us if she is to hold the Kingdom together.
“We have another matter to address,” she sighed. “Aisling Elisabeth is a stubborn mule of a girl. A woman,” she corrected herself. “Almost as stubborn as Dalen. We’ve all tried communicating with her over the years, both in dream state and in waking, and she continues to resist our guidance. He is the only one she will listen to. I propose we get him trained as quickly as possible and add him to the Council.”
They sat in stunned silence as they pondered this. There were only five seats on the Council. It’s just how it was. One of them would be out once he was ready. Dalen was a hothead in life, and those personalities were the hardest to train. They all agreed he was probably the only one Queen Libby would listen to, but the likelihood of success was low, further diminished by their impossibly short timeline.
“I’ve been here a long time,” piped up Michael, “and have never heard of a spirit learning to communicate that quickly. Not even Kokichi. But I agree, she will best respond to someone she knows, especially Dale. I will give up my seat on the council once he’s ready. Besides, Libby doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” Maggie looked at him. “She has the gift of
sight when she chooses to use it. She knows your face. She saw you the day you died, in this form.” Maggie gestured at him. “You spoke to her and she heard you. I know. I saw it all.”
Michael looked up at the ceiling without responding and blew his shaggy blonde hair out of his face.
Teruyo looked at Maggie and sighed. “If we survive the death of the King, you must find someone to teach Libby to use her gift. I have a feeling she’s going to need it to survive. And you’d probably better do it as quickly as possible. She’s too weak to take much more of the headaches and nosebleeds every time she resists us. Teach her that first. You of all people should have some ideas on how to help her.”
Maggie smiled like a contented cat but said nothing. In life Maggie had also possessed the gift, and when her great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter was born she recognized it immediately. For those who can see energy, magic has a unique color for each person. In Libby’s case it was the coppery pink glow of a rose quartz crystal. Maggie’s was the sparkling blue of her eyes, but she recognized that Libby’s magic came from the heart and was based in pure love. Libby’s was strong, but she rarely acknowledged it existed and had refused to learn how to use it.
The situation with her mother caused her to fear magic. The Queen Mother had been strong and embraced her power and gifts. But, as sometimes happens, her brain was overpowered. While she was still a child, Libby’s mother began to have difficulty separating her waking reality with the spirit realm she could see so clearly. As such, Libby grew up mothering her younger sisters, making sure they were dressed properly and did their homework. She loved her sisters but developed a strong resentment to this adult responsibility, and blamed magic.
There were times in her life where Libby couldn’t hold it back, usually at times of great distress and loss. The day she’d fought to save a child she loved, she’d instinctively tapped into it, at great personal cost. And the day Kokichi died it flared and she could see him and all of the rest of them, but she’d forced it back down. It scared her. The only time she didn’t fight it, was with music. She loved being able to see the color of music.
Maggie finally had the chance to send a teacher her way. With instruction, Libby could be the strongest of her line. Now that the Council had been formally convened, she could reach out to the one person easily available and talented enough to teach Libby. When Libby was receptive, Maggie could reach out to her directly.
“I do not agree,” Michie spoke softly, yet always managed to be heard.
All four heads turned to look at her.
“There is too much at stake, and too much that can go wrong. Attempting to put Dalen on the Council is a distraction for all of us.”
Teruyo’s face expressed her displeasure, but she wouldn’t disrespect her ancestor by interrupting.
Michie continued. “Still, you are correct, Libby will be most receptive to Dalen. We should expedite his training but keep him under close supervision. The risk of untrained communication could be catastrophic.”
Michael barked, “Which one of us is going to get stuck with the nightmare job of training him?”
“Kokichi is the only logical choice. In life they’d had a good relationship so that will hopefully make the process easier. Dalen respected him, which was rare for him.” Michie looked over at Kokichi with a tinge of pride.
There were no other suggestions, so Kokichi bowed his head in acceptance of this new responsibility. He had reservations. The King’s impatience and stubbornness were well known. They were counting on the fact that his love for Queen Libby would outweigh his pigheadedness. He hoped they weren’t making a mistake.
Teruyo addressed the group once again. “Are we in agreement then? We will train Dalen, but he will not be added to the Council?” They all nodded. They knew Dale would try to take shortcuts. It was imperative that he wait until he completed his training to try to communicate with her or he may push her into madness. What many of the living considered hauntings were really just spirits who hadn’t mastered communication yet. But even with experience communication was tricky and left far too much room for interpretation. Maggie liked to say, “Clarity is a rarity,” and it was true. Clarity was never guaranteed.
Teruyo spoke once more before adjourning the Council. “While Aisling Elisabeth is in a meditative state, or asleep, I will contact her and assure her she is not alone. She is susceptible to attack in her weakened condition. I propose we take turns protecting her from any spiritual threats. The moment the King dies we are all at risk. We must help her as best we can. I will reach out to the Senior Knight and Senior Lady-in-Waiting to apprise them of our plan. I hope they remember their training and live up to their roles. Appearing to the living can go wrong in so many ways, even after the Council has been activated,” she said, shaking her head.
Dale and Libby kept two full-time Royal Wizards on staff, and a third who was semi-retired. It quickly became clear there was neither a known medical nor magical way to save the King. The toll on the Queen was obvious so, with a little dream state suggestion from Maggie, a call went out throughout the Kingdom summoning all additional wizards and musicians to the palace.
The wizards and engineers could work their magic on the force field, but musicians had the power to boost one’s life force itself. Out in the Normal world people loved music for how it made them feel. Music could change your mood, help you relive memories, or get a crowd going. There was latent power in all music, even outside the force field. But in the Kingdom, there was real magical power in every note. The Queen, at the King’s bedside, received musician after musician, absorbing as much music magic as possible. Even that wasn’t enough to keep her strong, but it kept both her and the force field from dying out under the strain.
One of those musicians was the Queen’s dear friend, Fintan O’Toole. He’d been a world-famous musician and poet before he’d retired. He was a Normal, but when she’d convinced him to move to the Kingdom a few years earlier, she’d named him Poet Laureate. She was surprised and grateful to see him when he’d walked into their bedroom one afternoon with his mandolin, a small sprig of fresh lilac tucked into the button hole of his lapel. She’d hugged him, but neither had any words, so he’d just started playing.
The curse was fatal, and it was only a matter of time before Dale died. When he pierced Skarra’s heart, the curse she cast started in his. It would slowly consume his internal organs before spreading to his brain and killing him. Eventually he wouldn’t regain consciousness at all, which would be a blessing. It was a gruesome and painful way to die. In the end, he wouldn’t be able to walk or talk. He wouldn’t know what was happening, and wouldn’t even know who Libby, the love of his life, was anymore. He’d be helpless, unable to do anything for himself but die. Not the death befitting a warrior or a king.
At the same time Geoffrey was racing back to the palace with Dale, and the Spirit Council was debating how to proceed, one of the Royal Wizards was about to get the shock of her life. In her home, at the far edge of the Kingdom, Krystal felt the giant malachite crack a split second before she heard it. She rushed to her altar and saw the beautiful green stone lying in pieces.
“Oh, Sweet Goddess,” she cried as her hands reached up to tug at her long silver braid. She knew that when a malachite–a powerful protection crystal–cracked it meant danger was near. She quickly dropped her braid in favor of her amethyst amulet and reached for her favorite black tourmaline wand as she set new wards around her home. As she was making her way around to each corner, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Maggie appear. Krystal was a Royal Wizard, although she was semi-retired these days. Unlike her counterparts, she could easily communicate with spirits, and she recognized Maggie as such so she wasn’t afraid, although the malachite had her on edge.
“Krystal Johns, you must return to the palace immediately. The King has been injured. The Spirit Council has been convened. I am Maggie O’Brien, and I will fill you in on the way. You must make haste.”
“Yes. And that’s not all that’s at risk. You must hurry.”
Krystal was already loading crystals and white sage into her bag and hollering for her grandchildren to go home. She lived several days journey from the palace. She wouldn’t take her crystals through a portal since that could potentially change their molecular structure, so she had to travel by horse. She knew that if the Spirit Council had been convened things were bad. As much as she’d studied crystal lore, she’d never before seen a malachite shatter like that. At least I have practical evidence that the legends are true, she thought. I just hope it’s not as bad as I think it is. There was no time to clean up the altar, so she finished blessing the room and closed the door behind her.
She got her wagon packed with the necessary provisions and set out at a brisk pace for the palace. The wagon had everything she’d need, her mini-house on wheels. Not having to make and break camp would shave at least half a day off the three-day journey. As she departed, she dialed the Palace to inform her colleagues she was en route.
Chapter
Death Comes Knocking
Libby knew she was dreaming but couldn’t force herself to wake up. She was cold. She was at home in the palace, but it was too quiet to be real. Everything she looked at had sharp edges and was washed out. She recognized their bedroom and walked towards the bed where Dale was lying. Her footsteps echoed loudly on the stone floors and it seemed to take forever. With each step the temperature dropped. By the time she reached the edge of the bed, she could see her breath on the air. She looked down at Dale. He was alive, but just barely.