by Jeff Gunzel
“I see you find amusement within my set of private things,” he said in a playful taunt. “Go on then. You might as well familiarize yourself with our tools of knowledge if you are to be my assistant.”
“What is it like?” she asked suddenly, glancing over her shoulder at him while placing another jar back in its place.
“What do you mean? What is what like?”
“Well...I mean...living here, in the castle. The patient acceptance you’ve received.” She lowered her head with a sad look. “People like you and I...well, our dark gifts have never been accepted by others. I still regret the burden I placed on my parents. Sure, they were cruel to me. They locked me up where I couldn’t be found by anyone.” She let out a long sigh. “But was that not love in some strange way? It would have been so much easier for them to just abandon me, but chose not to at the cost of their own happiness.”
“No... No, I don’t, Addel,” he said softly as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Duty, perhaps. Maybe even the byproduct of guilt. But I don’t see locking up a little girl away from the sun, her family, and friends as any form of love.” He gave her a little shake, then turned away as he busied himself with his trinkets once more. “You asked me what it is like. Well, I’ll tell you.” He flashed her a warm smile. “Love,” was all he said at first. She returned the smile with a small one of her own. “The Queen has fully accepted me as well as my gifts.” He turned fully around and placed a hand on her shoulder once more. “And don’t you ever forget, Addel...they are gifts.”
He slowly turned back to his set of toys. “Queen Ilirra is the strongest, most caring women I have ever met. She loves her kingdom, the city, me...you.” He paused a moment to reflect on his own words. “I know in my heart that I would die for her if called upon,” he said, now staring right at Addel, his voice gaining intensity with every word. “If you can bury the hate of your past, forgive yourself as others already have, and not be afraid to commit all your efforts to a cause greater than any we have known in our lifetimes...”
She looked as though she would burst into tears. He cupped her face in his hands as her lower lip quivered with swelling emotion. “Then I promise you...you will know real love as well. Now then,” he gave her a light pat on the cheek. “For our first order of business, I have made a promise to a dear old friend, and I intend to keep it.” He pulled up a chair in front of the shiny pearl on top of his table. “This won’t be but a moment,” he said while wiggling his thin, gnarled fingers over the tiny white globe.
It wasn’t as though Addel hadn’t seen this or done this hundreds of times before. Scrying really wasn’t all that difficult, especially if you had a location in mind and weren’t forced to search blindly. Being fairly sure she wasn’t going to learn anything new here, she simply wandered around the room, thinking upon the wise man’s words.
Addel couldn’t remember the last time she felt love. The emotion almost seemed foreign to her. But she had been given no reason to doubt Berkeni’s words. It was clear everyone here was working together towards a common goal, with no clear incentive or benefit to any one individual.
To think, her gifts would be viewed as an asset, and not something to hide or be ashamed of. She would put forth her best efforts to aid in a cause that was right and just, and not purely because the penalty for failure was certain death. Had she really found a home? A purpose in life? Just the thought of it made her…
“By the gods!”
Addel snapped out of her daydream and ran over to Berkeni. “What? What’s wrong?” she said while using the minimal power needed to re-conjure the image he had just let slip away. Within a few seconds she was peering into the globe as the distorted images began to reshape once more. Her blood cooled. Speechless, she turned to Berkeni, whose eyes bulged and mouth hung wide open. The always serene, unflappable man could hardly spit out the words. “We...we m-must... We must find the Queen.”
Chapter 7
Morcel groaned as his broken body attempted to lift itself from the deep, soft bed. Layers of white sheets topped by a thick red blanket with green fringe had kept him prisoner long enough. He found the simple act of moving at all to be excruciating, as the combination of tender skin recently stitched and stiff limbs that hadn’t moved in days sent fire through his huge body. He couldn’t even handle the sudden movement involved with throwing the covers back, instead opting to roll them inch by inch, using no more than the subtle movement of his wrist. I’m useless laying here...I need to get up from this prison.
Just swinging his legs over the side of the bed appeared to be no option at all. He opted instead to push one massive leg with his hands towards the edge then blew out a sharp breath as it thumped to the floor. The vibration rattling through him was a reminder of where every single wound was located. Well...one more to go. As his last leg thumped to the floor, he winced hard again, but the fact that he was now sitting up on the side of the bed was a victory in itself.
He inhaled deeply while looking around the room that had housed him for days. A hand-carved, solid oak dresser with a dark, rich stain stood in the corner. An extra-large wooden washbowl with flower-scented water and tiny rose petals floating about lay on its base. The flowery scent in the air was strong enough to determine the water was fresh and must have been filled recently. A large, oval standing mirror with ornate golden patterns swirling around the glass stood on a silver three-pronged stand right next to the thick wooden door. He carefully leaned to the side to get a good look at his reflection.
His normally brilliant green eyes seemed dull and drawn in. His thick, black beard looked more wild and tangled than usual—a feat in itself. He let out a windy sigh. I feel old. The door opened suddenly. He slowly raised his eyes to the unsuspecting company.
In walked a young serving girl with short blonde hair matted tightly against her head by a transparent hairnet. She was holding a stack of white, fluffy towels folded up across her wrist and never even seemed to notice Morcel. That is, not until she closed the door behind her and turned to meet those green eyes. She let out a shriek as towels flew through the air.
“It’s alright, little lady,” Morcel said in a weak, gravelly voice while trying to hold his open hand out towards her innocently—yet another simple physical feat he just couldn’t seem to manage.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over in a squeaky voice as she scrambled to pick up the scattered towels. After a few more muttered apologies, she darted from the room as if it were on fire. He let out a deep sigh. Well, this is a good start to my day.
Then the door opened once more, only slowly this time. Azek peeked his head in before entering all the way. Even with his graying hair, the man’s lean, hard frame, combined with the piercing dark eyes of a hawk, looked every bit the right-hand man of the queen. “And how are you feeling, my friend?” he asked in that surprisingly youthful voice that just didn’t match his grizzled looks.
Morcel just gave a quick chuckle that was followed immediately by a coughing fit. “Like many different things tried to kill me at once,” he finally spit out when he could gather enough air.
Azek smiled at the big man. “The girl running from your room as if she had seen a ghost cued me in that you might finally be among the living,” he said before taking a seat on the bed, next to the weakened man.
Morcel chuckled once more before grabbing his side and groaning. “You have never told a joke in your life, and you start now just because you know laughing hurts me. I see no honor in that,” he said, trying to make a joke of his own.
Azek grinned as he glanced around the room. “You know, my friend...we owe you a great debt.” Morcel slowly turned his head as best as he could. “You were ready to give your life for a cause not of your own. In my book, that level of sacrifice makes an individual a king amongst men.” Azek stood up and faced the big man. “What you did for those kids...” He shook his head at his own statement. They were indeed just kids, yet somehow the weight of the world had bee
n placed on their shoulders. “Well, let’s just say it will never be forgotten.”
Morcel said nothing. He suddenly seemed to find the floor quite interesting. The whole thing seemed trivial to him. His thanks had certainly come from the heart, but in reality Azek would have done the exact same thing, and Morcel knew this for certain. The more he thought about it, the more odd it seemed. Giving his life to ultimately save the lives of millions was an easy choice by all measures—one any man surely would have made.
Suddenly they both looked to the doorway, as they could clearly hear some sort of commotion going on in the hall. Morcel barely leaned forward from the bed, air hissing through his exposed teeth as he winced from the pain. “No, my friend,” said Azek as he lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”
He stepped into the hall just in time to see the back of Berkeni’s bald head as he flashed around the corner. The old man was running? Azek wasted no time in speeding off after the surprisingly fast little man. He called out to him several times, but the man just kept on sprinting. This in turn sent a bit of a panic through Azek, seeing as there was no way Berkeni hadn’t heard him.
The little man didn’t stop or even slow down until he arrived at the queen’s private chamber. He began pounding away insistently until Ilirra finally whipped open the door, her face a mask of puzzlement and full of concern.
He couldn’t catch his breath as his hands fell to his knees. Bent over and panting, he was finally able to take one big breath and blurt out his message of distress. “My lady...we’re at war!”
* * *
The command center, or war room, hadn’t been used for anything in decades. The servants cleaned it daily like any other room in the palace, but it hadn’t served any functional purpose...until now.
A single, thick, white carpet covered the floor, spreading all the way out until it fit snugly into the corners against the dark blue walls. Two red curtains drawn back by thick, twisted, golden silk cords revealed one giant window with frosted glass panels, divided into squares by a checkered wooden frame. It allowed at least a little natural light to penetrate the room, but there was really no need for it, given the five oil stand lamps that provided plenty of light on their own.
Four of the six walls in the hexagon-shaped room were almost completely shielded by black wooden bookshelves, segmented to fit perfectly against each side. Many of the old, thick books looked to be in decent shape from the outside, but the innards went on to prove that age spares nothing, as quite a few pages were yellowed and worn.
Various maps of all sizes and regions blanketed the thick, round, oak table, sanded to the smoothness of glass and stained a deep, rich amber. A few of the assembled maps were small and able to lay relatively flat with no more than a slight curl. Others were extended rolls that needed objects placed at the corners to keep them from returning to the only position they had known for decades. Addel and Berkeni remained quiet, looking a little uncomfortable as they slouched down in their seats. They knew nothing of war or battle tactics, and had little to offer in the way of advice.
Ilirra paced back and forth, occasionally shaking her head in rapid little fits, as if enough denial would just make the cold reality go away. “I can’t believe this is happening. Hostility and aggression between towns is a daily occurrence, but there hasn’t been open war since—” She glanced at Berkeni, who in turn averted his eyes and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He knew what she meant, but the crytons were not the enemy this time.
“We could attack them from here, my lady,” said Azek as he placed a calloused finger on one of the larger unrolled maps, then slowly began to trace an invisible line as he spoke. “They will have to cross through this valley. It would be several days’ journey for our men, but if we gather our forces and march tomorrow—”
“Then you will have made the same mistake they have,” came the weakened voice from the doorway.
Morcel leaned hard against the wooden frame, eyes sunken in deep, resembling a walking corpse. Ilirra ran over to him, flinging protests about how he should be in bed. She reached out and gripped his huge shoulders, as if you could actually move the beast if he didn’t want to be moved. The strong motherly instincts buried deep within the Queen seemed to come out at the strangest times.
“They are giving us an advantage, Azek, and you are entertaining the idea of giving it back to them,” Morcel said weakly as he pushed past Ilirra then flopped heavily into a chair, making it creaked in protest. “I know their people, the way they think—their extreme level of pride. You think they can march here in twelve days. They will be here in eight!”
The sharp sound of air being taken in seemed heavily exaggerated because all did it at once.
Morcel went on in a tired voice, “They are proud people, and the needed pacing to keep their soldiers fresh will not even be a consideration. Instead, they will be pushed hard to make the march faster than anyone else could. This alone will be their undoing.”
Azek wore a slightly puzzled look as he contemplated Morcel’s words. “Are you suggesting we just let them make the journey right to our doorstep? That we don’t even try to intercept their armies on the terrain of our choosing? That we sit here and do nothing?!”
“Stay here...yes. Do nothing? No.” The big man took his time looking around the room, making sure he had everyone’s full attention. “By the time they arrive, they will be weakened from several days of travel. The pace their foolish pride demands will make it only that much worse. We have the great wall that surrounds Taron. Defending the city utilizing our archers and strategically placed foot soldiers will give us the greatest chance for success against such a powerful enemy. Believe me, you don’t want to take Dronin soldiers on in the open field. That’s a fast way to die.”
“But their numbers are massive,” said Azek, still looking unconvinced. “Even if everything works to perfection, they may still breach the walls at some point. The people...women and children...the elderly? There will be nowhere to run!”
Morcel held a sad yet determined look. He slowly crossed his arms over his massive chest, failing at trying to hide his discomfort at even the smallest of movements. “You are correct. They very well may breach the walls at some point. Hopefully their numbers will be thinned out enough that we can drive them back by then. As for the people of Taron...” His look was hard as steel when his green eyes flashed towards Ilirra. “They will have a choice, no different a choice than any of us: fight for their city, their freedom, their lives...or they will die.”
As cold and heartless as his statements sounded, no one could muster any argument against his words. Trying to take down Dronin soldiers in open combat was suicide. It made the most tactical sense to try defending the city from within.
As for the people, what were their options? Telling them to stay in their homes was a given, but if it came down to it, they would have to fight. It really was that simple.
“I agree,” said Azek reluctantly. It wasn’t really that he agreed on the idea of endangering the citizens of Taron—he just couldn’t see a better option.
“There is yet another problem,” Ilirra chimed in. Everyone turned to her attentively, albeit reluctantly, just not wanting to hear any more possible complications to an already huge dilemma. “As the Dronin army marches across the land, they will pass many a town and village.”
Slightly puzzled looks shadowed everyone’s faces—everyone except Morcel, that is. With his voice growing weaker by the word, he said, “They will be recruiting men at arms the entire way, willing or not.”
“So the current numbers we have estimated don’t mean a thing,” said Azek as he threw his hands in the air then tightly across his head while staring at the ceiling.
Berkeni slid his chair back and slowly stood up. “Then we must do the same,” he said in a firm, even tone. Everyone’s heads jerked in his direction, as if just noticing he was there for the first time. His suddenly determined gaze f
ell on Ilirra. “My lady,” he said as she hung on to his every word, “you must send riders. Taron must seek aid from its neighbors and allies.”
The room grew silent. Even though impending war had been the discussion this entire time, it just became real. The reality of Taron’s possible doom hung heavy in the air for the first time. The flickering light cascading from slow-burning oil lamps seemed to be the most animated source of life in the room.
“Then it is done,” said Ilirra at last, taking the time to look around the room with her penetrating gaze, looking each person squarely in the eye...into their very soul. “We call for aid. Azek, send riders to all neighboring towns. I’m afraid we are about to find out who our friends really are.”
* * *
Ilirra marched along the white-tiled halls with Berkeni and Addel. “Berkeni, I need you to go back to your quarters and contact Jade. Inform her of our current status immediately. Tell them to hurry and return,” said Ilirra, whose pace started to slow as she spoke the words.
It wasn’t really that it just occurred to her. She was just allowing herself the luxury of dwelling on something positive, something wonderful, if even for just a moment. Her sweet Jade had survived her journey to the Dead Forest! Ilirra allowed herself this one momentary greedy feeling of joy, joy that made her want to dance and sing if only for a second. That precious second needed to be savored before she was buried under the impending avalanche of duty, responsibility, and all the city’s troubles that would threaten to crush her mighty spirit once more.
Berkeni nodded his understanding. “I’m not sure there is anything they can do, but I’ll contact them at once. If nothing else, we need to get them safe within these walls.”
Ilirra turned around and stopped right in her tracks. Addel was startled by the sudden attention as the Queen looked down on the broken old woman. Addel had been doing her best to stay invisible, afraid of being judged or ridiculed. After all, her time of working for the enemy was too recent, and she was sure it would take years, if not longer, for any of them to trust her.