Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  Drake pointed at the distant center of the field where something rose from the ground. When they neared the center, Farkus let go of Drake and moved, as quickly as he could, to his brother. Semiya lay still, eyes open, and somehow alive. The armor was gone, but a large sword rose from Semiya’s chest and pinned him to the ground. The blade seemed to be the same width and placement as the armor’s crack, and Angst immediately recognized it as Chryslaenor.

  Neither Lord nor General were able to budge the monstrous sword. Semiya lifted his arm, and Farkus knelt by his brother, gripping his neck and pulling him close. “I was right, brother,” Semiya said in a whisper. “The magics are gone now. I saved us all.” And with those words, Semiya died.

  16

  The silence of the early morning was shattered by a scream. Angst had woken with a start to find he couldn’t roll over, he couldn’t lift either leg, he couldn’t move. Every muscle, every joint, every fiber of his body ached and throbbed.

  He heard another scream, and then pain-induced moans from Tarness and Dallow.

  “I can’t move,” Dallow whined.

  “Are you guys all right?” Angst gasped.

  “I don’t know, Angst. Everything feels horribly wrong,” Tarness called out dramatically. “This is all your fault!” He swore vehemently.

  Hector shook his head and clicked his tongue in mock sympathy as he bustled about a small cooking fire. “We’re going to get nowhere fast if you three can’t handle a bit of horseback riding. My old granmama with a gimp leg and an eye patch doesn’t complain this much.”

  Their continued laments made the campsite sound like wounded on a battlefield as the three heroes dealt loudly with their old, unused muscles. Not nearly as enthusiastic about the hours of travel ahead as they’d been the night before.

  Angst remembered hangovers that felt better than this. The remnants of last night's dream made his head throb. Body aches like these typically came with black eyes. Not to mention, the sweats. It had to be some sort of illness, there was no way he was this out of shape!

  Sitting up in this condition was a job for younger men. After long moments of indecision, Angst gracefully rocked from side to side until finally rolling over to his stomach. He pushed himself awkwardly onto his knees, shaking like a newborn deer. Several muttered curses later, he had successfully crawled over rocks and roots to leave the tent. He paused to seek out those remaining muscles that weren’t strained and hadn’t magically turned into knotty tendons overnight. It was a nearly impossible task. The few spots that weren’t sore had been chafed by the horse and armor—it felt as though to the bone. “Who’s making breakfast?” Angst growled.

  “Already done, but you have to come over here to eat it,” Hector taunted, sounding too happy for his own good.

  “This is not going to work. How are we supposed to defend the kingdom if we need an infirmary every morning?” Angst said, rising to his knees. He looked up from the ground to find Tarness and Dallow in similar conditions.

  Ivan, already in his armor, walked over to stand behind Angst. “You three just need a swift kick like any new recruit,” he barked, pulling back his leg. “Hey, I can’t move my foot!”

  It was an easy bit of magic for Angst, and this trick had always been one of his favorites at the castle. With only the slightest bit of concentration, he could will the ground to hold someone’s armor in place.

  Angst looked up at Hector and winked. He stood, slowly, letting out a long grunt, and then turned to face Ivan. “No rules out here, Sir Ivan. I’m happy to humble you all the way there and back again.”

  Ivan gave up on fighting his immobility. A thin smile crawled across his lips, obviously forced. “Just joking, Angst,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

  Angst looked him up and down, and with a wave of his hand, released Ivan’s foot. He walked over to Dallow and Tarness and helped them to their feet. “Let’s eat.”

  They ate in relative silence, well, save for the popping bones, creaky tendons, and moans when muscles were unexpectedly stretched for the first time in a decade.

  “Are you certain we didn’t bring any meds that could soften the blow a bit?” Dallow asked Hector desperately. “I don’t know if I can get back on that horse.”

  “Meds? We have a few bandages. Maybe I can wrap everyone’s mouth so they stop complaining.” Hector sounded frustrated. “You’re the smart one. You go find something out there.” He waved off into the woods.

  Hector’s words acted like a trigger, and Dallow replied with a considering, “Huh.” His green irises and dark pupils gradually clouded over and began glowing. His eyes moved back and forth quickly, as though reading some invisible text unimaginably fast. Dallow cocked his head to one side and a satisfied smile spread across his face as his eyes returned to normal. He slapped Hector on the shoulder.

  “Good idea,” Dallow acknowledged before wandering off into the nearby wood.

  Angst looked at Tarness, shrugged, and the two of them followed. Ivan stood back with a disgusted look on his face, but said nothing.

  Dallow started pulling moss off various trees then grabbed some wild mushrooms from around their base. “I need these ground up, quickly.”

  Angst held out his hands for the materials. “I do this at home for Heather all the time,” he explained. He placed the ingredients in his breakfast bowl then picked up a small rock, wiped it off on Dallow’s leather jerkin, and dropped it on top of the moss and mushrooms. The rock began to spin, bouncing off the bowl’s edge and crashing against the vegetation. After several moments, the rock had ground everything into a fine paste that smelled of musty carrots and vinegar.

  Angst peered into the bowl and quickly jerked his nose away. “I get it. You’re poisoning us so we die instead of hurting. Good plan.”

  “Yeah, don’t eat that. You’ll be sick for a week.” Dallow scooped up a skosh of the concoction with two fingers and rubbed it along the inside of his legs. “Ahhh. Try it.”

  Without hesitation, Tarness grabbed a huge handful and slathered it all over his legs and shoulders. He sighed with relief. “It feels like a warm bath. Dallow, you’re a genius.”

  Angst mixed the remainder of the plants then scooped a generous handful and worked the paste into his sore muscles. It burned, tolerably, where his legs were chafed, but his muscles relaxed as though he were bathing in a hot spring.

  “Dallow, this is great. Where did you get the idea?” Tarness asked.

  “An old medical herb book,” Dallow said, pleased with himself. “We’re very lucky. The mushrooms die quickly when fall arrives.”

  “We should keep this stuff on hand, you know, just in case.” Tarness seemed eager.

  “I’ll collect more of the moss and mushrooms while you both pack camp,” Dallow agreed.

  Angst and Tarness returned to find Ivan and Hector arguing. Hector appeared ready to leap at Ivan, his wolf-like eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. His short gray hairs reminded Angst of a dog’s hackles, raised before a fight.

  Ivan immediately stopped when they arrived, looking slightly nauseated. He pinched his nose and reared his head away. “What is that smell?” He almost gagged. “Did you roll around in a dead animal or something?”

  “Dallow made a salve to help with our sore muscles. I feel like new!” Tarness sounded ecstatic.

  Hector took a step back. “You don’t smell like new. I hope your armor covers that stench.”

  Dallow returned with more mushrooms and moss, which they decided to pack separately, as the smell was easier to contain when the ingredients were unmixed. The armor covered a small portion of the scent, but it was strong enough that Hector rode well in front of the group, and Ivan followed far behind.

  They made slow progress over the next several days, since it was necessary to locate campsites with an ample cache of moss and mushrooms. Angst had wanted to ask Hector what he’d been arguing with Ivan about, but his friend seemed most offended by the smell and avoided the three of them.


  Each day’s ride required a bit more of the paste until Dallow announced, “I believe that’s all we get.”

  “Finally!” Ivan exclaimed.

  “What do you mean? We’ve only been using it for a few days,” Angst asked, not wanting to face riding sore for the next week.

  “It seems to be losing potency,” Dallow informed them. “Either because summer is over, or because we are using too much.”

  Hector seemed happy for the first time in days. “Then we have a new requirement for tonight’s campsite — a creek. You three need a bath!”

  17

  A cool morning breeze crept through the window and into the queen’s chamber. Isabelle pulled at her blankets then shivered and opened her eyes when she realized her comforter was still missing. She sighed deeply, already aware it would be impossible to go back to sleep. But mornings were always like this, her mind started to-do lists even while her body longed for precious rest. It was pointless to just lie in bed, but she continued to do so anyway. She pondered and justified. Didn’t she deserve one late morning? With the tiniest amount of sacrifice, the queen had removed the trash, and all her burdens, from Unsel. It had been days since she’d rid herself of Angst, and of Ivan, and she still felt smugly triumphant. The thought of this win was comforting. Her eyes were just beginning to make a feeble attempt at shutting when Isabelle heard it. Click, click, click.

  Was she dreaming, or maybe stuck in that half-waking, early morning state? The queen sat up, but her sleep-laden eyes required a certain amount of knuckling before they would focus. She peered at a bird-shaped silhouette blocking the early morning sunlight. From across her bedroom, it looked like a huge raven. The kind someone might mistake for an eagle or a hawk when it flew high overhead.

  The queen rose from her bed, pulled a heavy violet cloak over her shoulders, and slipped her feet into violet morning shoes. She shuffled across the thick Meldusian carpet, with the intent of shooing the thing off, but stopped fifteen feet away. The bird remained still as if it owned the windowsill. It was disconcerting, but at least now she could now see her visitor clearly.

  Early morning light reflected off velvety purple wings. Its chest was a dark crimson, and seemed covered in soft gosling fur where one would’ve expected bird feathers. The legs were almost thick as her arm, and its talons were the size of her fingers. As the bird shifted slightly, the legs and beak shone in the morning sun like polished metal. Its silvery beak was a long thin thing that was almost handsome, making it appear majestic. When she met its eyes, a fan of feathers popped up, like a peacock but from the bird’s neck rather than its back end. They surrounded its head in a feathery purple half circle, each feather displaying several crimson eyes that matched the ones on its face.

  Isabelle was mesmerized, and slowly moved closer. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from its watchful eyes. It cocked its head, studying her as she studied it. Such a magnificent creature, so regal in nature, it belonged at the castle with her. Isabelle stopped a reach away. Holding her breath, she spread her arms wide and prepared to capture it in a giant hug. Then the eyes blinked, both on the bird’s face, and on the feathery fan. They all blinked simultaneously, then narrowed with intent.

  “Wait, that isn’t right,” Isabelle said.

  She wanted to take a step back, but was already leaning forward to catch it. The creature dove at her face, its long, handsome beak aimed directly at her eyes.

  Tyrell was doing morning calisthenics in his bed chamber when the queen screamed across the hall—the type of bloodcurdling scream that crawled through your bones and into your nightmares. Without pause, he grabbed his short sword and tore through the double doors of his room.

  The guards posted outside the queen’s room fumbled to unlock the doors then scrambled out of the way as Tyrell rammed through them.

  Isabelle lay on the carpet of her room with her arms extended, holding off a giant purple bird that stood on her chest. The queen’s arms were barely long enough to protect her face from its talons. Unfortunately, they weren’t long enough to keep its beak away. The bird paid no heed to Tyrell or the soldiers, and instead continued digging in the queen’s right eye.

  One of the guards gasped, the other cursed.

  “Tyrell!” Isabelle screamed, panic gripping her voice.

  He struck the creature with all his might. It rolled to the floor, shook slightly then ran back to the queen. Tyrell moved forward quickly to intercept.

  Victoria ran into the room, but one of the queen’s guards held her back. “Mother!” she screamed, her body bent over the guard’s restraining arm, straining to push through. “Let me go!”

  The bird paused, looking from queen to princess, then expanded its massive wings and flew to Victoria.

  “Get her out now!” Tyrell barked. He leaped forward and tackled the beast.

  Tyrell and the bird rolled, its metal talons tearing at his bare chest. He gripped the creature’s neck with one hand while grappling to better position his sword.

  One guard attempted to wrestle the princess out of the room, while the other grabbed the queen’s arm to drag her away. Blood poured from Isabelle’s face as she held her hand against her eye. She screamed for Tyrell, and flailed as though the bird still attacked.

  “What have you done!” Tyrell roared at the bird creature.

  The bird’s strength was astounding, and he struggled to position himself on top of it. He jammed his short sword into the creature’s chest. The impact made it cough, but Tyrell’s blade couldn’t penetrate the bird’s crimson coat.

  “Fine,” the Captain Guard explained to the bird in frustration. “We’ll do it this way.” With all the rage Tyrell could muster, he rammed the creature’s head with the hilt of his sword. He moved his hand off its neck and shoved the sharp beak aside while continuously smashing at its head.

  The bird became agitated, tossing and writhing until it was finally out of Tyrell’s grip.

  “Get the window!” Tyrell commanded, but the guards were busy helping Isabelle and Victoria. Others had arrived, but they were too far away.

  The large purple bird hopped to the windowsill then turned and looked at Tyrell. It opened its mouth wide, let out a loud shrilling sound, spread its wings, and flew off.

  Later, Tyrell and the princess sat outside the physician’s room and waited. Tyrell had stopped pacing to sit by Victoria, who seemed to choose different spots on the wall to stare at. He would have expected a storm of tears — she deserved every one of them — but instead the princess surprised him, again. She hadn’t panicked when she’d walked into the chaos of her mother’s chamber. She’d actually wanted to help fight, and had taken charge of the guards when the battle was over. Even now, her poise was impressive. She was obviously upset, but she also seemed thoughtful. Tyrell couldn’t help but wonder, had Princess Victoria just become queen?

  Physician Nynette entered the waiting room. Her hair, once gathered in a tight bun, was a disheveled mess, exhaustion plain on her haggard face. Her blue robes were splattered with royal blood.

  She knelt in front of Victoria and looked up at her intently. “Your mother is alive, Your Majesty,” the physician said.

  Tyrell and Victoria let out a sigh of relief.

  “I would like to see her now,” Victoria said in stoic voice.

  “She’s sleeping, but you may see her,” Nynette agreed. “Before you go in, I need to share my concerns.”

  The princess took a deep breath, bracing herself for the news, and nodded.

  “The queen’s right eye is gone. It will have to be replaced with a glass eye to minimize the chance of infection. She has some deep wounds around her eye, some of which will heal, but there will be scarring.” Nynette took a deep breath. “Her Majesty will need a lot of care and attention. An attack this damaging often leaves most people frightened and bewildered.”

  Victoria held up her hand, stopping the physician. Her voice was very serious. “The queen will be fine. She is not most people, and if a
nyone asks, that is exactly what you will tell them.”

  The physician seemed surprised by Victoria’s response. She stood and stepped back, but said nothing.

  Princess Victoria rose and went to the infirmary room where her mother was resting.

  Tyrell caught himself almost smiling, once again impressed by the young woman. “What are the rest of your concerns?” he asked the physician.

  “I’ve seen other patients with dagger wounds to the eye. The results are horrific. People can go crazy, or die a slow death as a result of damage done behind the eye. I did everything I could, but it’s impossible to tell how deep the queen’s injuries are.” Her voice was filled with worry.

  “Thank you for telling me, but the princess is correct. Nobody outside of this room will ever learn the extent of her injuries.” Tyrell placed a firm hand on her shoulder, looking directly into her eyes. “You understand this?”

  Nynette nodded.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked.

  “We will need to continue administering medication so she remains asleep until her glass eye is in place. I wouldn’t recommend waking or moving her for several days.”

  “That isn’t a problem,” Tyrell acknowledged. “I will station a dozen guards outside the doors. Nobody will be allowed in save your staff, the princess, and myself.”

  Nynette crossed her arms and tsked in annoyance. “I thought this was an animal attack? What kind of animal requires that many guards?”

  He peered around the door to see Victoria sitting beside her mother in the examination room as she’d done only days before with Angst. The princess held the queen’s hand, and gazed intently at her face. She didn’t appear aware of Tyrell and Nynette’s conversation.