by Lisa Bain
Awen gasped when she began speaking. “I am Mori Michie. I’ve given up trying to count how many greats separate us.” She smirked at Maggie. “But I am the Queen’s grandmother many times over. Libby is my direct descendant. Although she has never heard of me by name, she has had dreams of me from the time she was a child, and that’s why she is a natural swordswoman and archer. She has wielded my blade and my bow in her dreams her whole life. Maggie O’Brien is correct about her gifts. They will be an asset and she must accept and master them for the good of the kingdom. You will need to encourage her when she finally agrees. Push her if necessary.”
Maggie’s eyes grew wide at this confirmation. Michie rarely spoke much, so this volunteered information was unusual. It was even more gratifying than the rare times her husband admitted that he was wrong, and she was right.
Awen and Sophia were staring intently at each other. Sophia raised her hand to interrupt. “Excuse me. By chance are you the Queen Michie that survived the death of her king? The one from the ancient texts?”
Michie nodded, “Yes,” but offered no additional information.
Awen’s jaw was hanging open in shock. All three wizards were deep in thought, minds racing as they tried to process what this meant for their current predicament. As such, they missed Michael’s introduction.
Scarlett and Geoffrey noticed the sweet boy standing up on his chair so he could be seen by the others around the conference table. He was wearing tiny sandals and a green tropical shirt and shorts, as if he was on his way to the beach in Hawaii. Scarlett figured he was about five years old. Geoffrey didn’t even hazard a guess. Kids were out of his area of expertise. “I’m Michael.” They were taken aback by the man’s voice that came out of the sweet toddler’s face, “Queen Libby is my mother.”
Geoffrey lost all attempts at composure at this announcement and a “What the fuck?” echoed around the council chambers, recapturing the attention of the wizards.
Scarlett’s eyes filled with tears and a smile took over her face. She was the only one outside of Libby’s private physician, who knew the Queen had lost a child. She’d been there as Libby dealt with the devastation in private. It was made worse when accompanied by the news that the damage ensured she’d never be able to have children. Scarlett wasn’t sure if Dale had even known, since Libby had sworn the two to silence and forbade them to ever bring it up again. “Oh, sweet Goddess,” she whispered.
“Yes, Aunt Scarlett. I’m here on the Council but have been watching over my mother for years.”
Teruyo gave the group a moment to digest that information and then began the briefing.
Geoffrey paused to look around at the Council. Interesting, he thought. Despite the Queen’s Irish heritage and love of Ireland, only one member of the Council was Irish. The rest were Japanese. Geoffrey knew that Libby was quite in touch with her Japanese heritage and had lived in Japan for years. It was only in the last ten years or so that she’d focused on learning more about her Irish ancestors. Yet, her name was Irish. She was even born a ginger, before her Japanese DNA asserted itself and her red hair started growing in black.
His eyes came to rest on Maggie and he guessed she’d had something to do with Libby’s sudden interest in her Irish past. The Irish were famous for spreading out everywhere on the planet. Libby often joked that you could find an Irish pub no matter where you went in the world, and that the Irish were taking over the world one pour at a time. It seemed that slow Irish takeover also held true when it came to Libby’s DNA. Well, at least parts of it. That girl sure does love her whiskey, music, and fun, he mused.
He felt Scarlett kick him under the table and snapped back to paying attention, with the realization they were all looking at him. Awen was unrolling the scroll in front of her and looking at him with irritation.
“Sorry. Pulling it together,” he said with a small salute.
Teruyo continued. “We believe that Libby’s survival is possible but will be difficult. It’s been done before, but Libby will need all of us.”
“How did you do it?” Awen demanded. “The scroll doesn’t give any details, just that you did it.”
“The details aren’t important right now,” Michie replied. “Libby will need your support, and we will need your cooperation. Nothing we discuss is to be mentioned to anyone outside the Queen’s Council. There are too many delicate pieces that we can’t risk being messed up by the well-meaning but uninformed. That includes your knights and LIWs, and the rest of the family. Do you understand?”
Geoffrey and Scarlett both nodded. The wizards rarely discussed their work with anyone but the King and Queen, so this wasn’t a big change for them, but the two Seniors rarely held information back from their teams.
“We’ll do anything to help Libby,” Scarlett assured them.
“Very well.” Teruyo interjected. “The Queen is weak. We will work to protect her from any spiritual attack, but she is vulnerable to a physical one. That is your primary responsibility now, ensure her physical safety at all costs. We will give you additional instructions as needed. We will meet here as a group daily, but it takes a lot of energy for us to appear to you this way, so we will communicate with you in dream state as much as possible. Be prepared.”
With a slight bow, Teruyo silently dismissed them. The group stood up to leave, when Maggie addressed the wizards, “Not you three. We have more to discuss.” Geoffrey and Scarlett looked at each other and walked out of the council chambers before the spirits could change their minds. They paused outside the door. Scarlett looked up at Geoffrey and gave him a small smile and wrapped her arms around him. No words were exchanged, but they nodded and went in separate directions to fulfill their duties to the Queen and the Kingdom. They had a lot of work to do. They knew that they–and everyone they knew and loved–could die at any minute.
When the three wizards were finally released, they headed off to get to work on their new assignments. Sophia went to make preparations for Dale’s impending death, and Awen went to find Libby.
Krystal headed to the vault to get her supplies. Maggie had given her an impossible task, but she was going to die trying if she had to. She snorted; she’d really die if she didn’t try, so at least this was a way to feel useful. She was going to need all the help she could get, in both realms. Somehow, she needed to convince Libby, who had suppressed her magic her whole life, that it was not only a good idea, but critical to the survival of the Kingdom. Where do you even start? Lessons were one thing if you had a willing pupil. How do you drag someone kicking and screaming and get them to learn in spite of themselves?
“The mute button,” Krystal said too loudly for someone talking to herself. “I’ll teach her how to use the mute button first. Yes, that’s the way in, to solve her problem of unwelcome visitation. Once she learns how to mute a spirit or change the channel on her spirit radio, she’ll be able to avoid the headaches and nosebleeds. From there I can teach her other things. That’s my way in with her.”
Krystal passed the palace steward on her way to the vault, which was conveniently located next to the wine cellar. He watched the wizard walking down the hallway, nodding and talking to herself. He looked around to see if he could see any spirits, then shook his head at the attempt and continued towards the kitchen.
Awen found Libby at the King’s side, holding his pale waxy hand in hers. Beads of perspiration dotted her tired face. The inhuman effort the Queen expended to compensate for the King’s declining energy was taking its toll. She stayed at his side, but at great cost to her own health. She didn’t even look like herself. Her skin had taken on a gray pallor, not too different from that of the King’s, and the dark circles under her eyes made her look ghoulish. And wow, she looked a lot older than forty-four. The amount of energy the force field required had an unexpected effect in that the Queen’s rich black hair had faded to a brilliant white, as if all the color and life had been sucked dry–an outward visual indicator of what was happening within her body and s
oul.
She didn’t look up as Awen entered the room.
“I need to speak with you in private,” she informed the Queen.
“I can’t leave him.” Libby waved her off.
Awen looked at the doctors in attendance, and the King’s sister. “Can you handle things for a few minutes? This is urgent.”
“Of course,” said Kendra, mildly offended. Why wouldn’t she be able to care for her brother? She’d known him longer than anyone, including Libby.
Awen took Libby by the hand and, since the Queen was too physically weak to resist, pulled her to the other side of the room. “Libby, we think we have found a plan to save you, the force field and the Kingdom, but we must take immediate action.”
Libby’s eyes welled up with tears when she noticed that Awen didn’t mention saving the King. To be honest, she knew he wasn’t going to make it. A lesser man would have already died. He was a fighter, and he was a protector. Dale would do whatever it took to protect both her and the Kingdom. She’d held out hope for a long time, but even that had waned in recent days. When you share a heart, it’s hard to deny what’s happening no matter how much you’d like to. Then, of course, there was the dream. The horrible blood-soaked nightmare and accusing yellow eyes that haunted her each time she dozed off.
She wanted to curl up and bawl her eyes out, but her responsibilities to her people outweighed her personal crisis. “Let’s hear it,” she wheezed, leaning against the dresser for support.
“Sophia and I have found an ancient text that describes how a queen was able to survive the death of her husband. Just like King Dale, it wasn’t sudden so there was some time to prepare.” Awen stopped here. Michie deserved to tell Libby about their connection herself. Awen was still dumbstruck by the whole thing anyway. What were the odds that the Queen referenced in the text was Libby’s ancestor? And that she was a sitting member of the Spirit Council?
Awen picked up her explanation again. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had much sleep either, so here is the short version: You go into a meditative trance and focus on the force field. You can stay with the King; the location doesn’t matter. Every energy worker we have, me included, will be with you to help shore up your energy.”
The Queen looked at her blankly and Awen had a sinking feeling. Oh shit, I wish Sophia were here, she thought. She’s better at the hard stuff.
“I don’t mean to be insensitive or crass, but do you understand what will happen when the King dies?”
The Queen looked up as her eyes filled with tears, “Yes. I do. The moment he dies, the part of my heart that is grafted to his will die with him. In addition, the part of his heart that is grafted to mine will die as well. I will have only half a heart. No one has ever survived with half a heart, let alone maintained the force field which requires the strength of two full hearts.”
Awen breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Actually, the queen I mentioned earlier did, at least until she could regrow a full heart.”
Libby’s eyes snapped open wide. “What? Is that even possible?”
“I won’t lie to you, it won’t be easy. It would be painful on a good day, and in your weakened condition there is a lot that can go wrong. But we want to try.”
Libby sat and pondered this a minute. She knew she had to try for her people. She knew Dale would want her to fight and not let it all end with him. She wished he’d wake up so she could talk to him, but she knew that he’d never wake again. She knew it was close. Probably less than a day. She’d never felt so afraid or alone in her life.
The Queen nodded weakly and Awen laid out the rest of the plan they’d developed with the Spirit Council. It was fairly cut and dry. They’d keep Libby alive until she could learn to regrow her heart. She’d have to learn some magic and talk to ghosts, but if it worked the Kingdom and her people would survive. Seems easy enough, she thought sarcastically. There was only one thing left for her to do.
As Awen departed, Libby asked everyone to leave the room. She didn’t want anyone else around when she spoke her final words to him. He’d been in a coma for several days now, but she wanted to say the words out loud. Somehow, she knew he’d hear them. As she walked to the bed where he was lying, she was instantly transported to the dream. When she reached the bedside, she saw the skeletal face and yellow eyes. Although she could feel the scream starting in the pit of her stomach, she knew they weren’t looking at her in accusation like in the dream. This was just the face of death. She couldn’t bear to see him like this. She knew it was time. She choked back the panic, took his hand in hers, and dug deep to find the words she needed to say.
“Dalen. My sweet brave Dale, I know you can hear me. I need you to know that it’s okay for you to let go. I know you’ve been fighting to stay. You’ve been fighting to protect me and everyone else.” Her voice cracked as she started sobbing. “I know you’ve been in so much pain, and that breaks my heart. What’s left of it.” She laughed dryly. “I will be okay. We will all be okay. We have a plan, and we are going to fight. We are going to be successful. It’s okay for you to let go. I won’t say good-bye because I know we’ll be together again someday, just like we found each other in this life and in many past lifetimes. I love you. I will always love you. I thank you so much for the life we’ve shared.” The words were barely intelligible as the wracking sobs tore through her body. “Let go, Baby. It’s time to let go. Have faith in me. Trust me to do this. Please let go.”
She looked up as she sensed him relax a bit. As she gazed at her best friend and soulmate, she suddenly saw her dad standing beside him, hand on his shoulder. He was looking at her with a gentle smile, something he did often when he was alive and knew she needed his support. She knew that he’d be waiting for Dale. She didn’t like to acknowledge the spirit world much, but at this moment seeing him there was comforting. The love of her life wouldn’t be alone. Being alone would be her burden to bear. “Thank you, Daddy,” was all she could get out before she collapsed into tears again.
She ran her fingers through his short silver hair. Despite knowing his body was shutting down, she was startled to see his hair fall out in her now shaking hands. She gently shook it out of her fingers, then she laid her head on Dale’s chest and sobbed until she had nothing left. When her breathing finally regulated she began to prepare for her meditative trance. If she focused on the plan, she wouldn’t have to focus on losing her husband. If she focused on the plan, it would give her something to fight for.
She summoned the head physician and sent word to family, the knights, and Ladies-in-Waiting that it was time to say their goodbyes if they were so inclined. She spent the next 24 hours sitting at his side, his hand in hers, but was in a deep trance. She didn’t notice people coming and going, nor did she hear their final words to Dalen. During this time she did see faces of those who’d gone before...her grandmother, her parents, and others she couldn’t quite place. She knew she wasn’t alone, even though it was the loneliest feeling she’d ever endured.
Chapter
The Knight’s Rally
Geoffrey issued the recall order as soon as he and Scarlett left the council chambers. It was a formality. All eight knights had already convened at the palace within the last twenty-four hours. They’d started preparing as soon as Sean contacted them after the initial attack on King Dalen. As word got out that the King probably wouldn’t survive the night, they’d made haste. After saying good-bye to their families for what may have been the last time, they left home. They would all be onsite at the palace when he died. The knights would now serve the Queen for the good of the Kingdom. It was likely they wouldn’t survive the next 24-hours, but they would try.
Nine men and one woman made up the Royal Knights. They were joined by one junior knight who was also a potential heir to the throne. They’d gathered in the great room of the Knights’ Tower. It wasn’t actually a tower, but throughout history that’s what it had been called. John watched Sean pace and make continuous notes on his tablet. He’d occa
sionally talk to someone through his communications gear, but it was otherwise a somber room.
Under normal circumstances the room would be full of lively banter. Knights would be trying to one-up each other with whatever crazy adventure or financial success they’d just had. Instead, weapons and gear were being cleaned and checked for readiness, and soft conversation was the only noise. It was too warm out for a fire, but food and drink were laid out on the counter. Only Will O’Malley, the Weapons Master, was true to form. He was sitting quietly, sketching the scene and writing a few words to capture the moment for his future use, occasionally breaking to twirl the ends of his silver handlebar mustache.
John couldn’t stand it anymore and finally broke the silence. “I don’t mean to sound like an ass. I know it’s awful that the King is dying. But why is everyone acting like we’re going off to war never to return?”
His voice trailed off as ten heads turned to stare up at him in shock. He had no military bearing, and wore his wavy blonde hair long and shaggy, looking more like a lanky California surfer than the Queen’s Knight Grand Champion. At 6’7” he was the tallest of the bunch, but that’s not what made him stand out. The fact that the Queen had personally recruited him from the outside world was what made him the odd man. He didn’t have any shared history with the rest of them and clearly this part had been glossed over in his studies.
Sean flat out stared at him in contempt. This is why you don’t bring in an outsider, he thought to himself, shaking his head.