The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2)

by Russ L. Howard

  Sur Sceaf started to reply but he was taken by a dizzy spell that made him sick to his stomach. Infuriated by his weakness, he reluctantly signed for a halt. At Ilrundel’s signal the riders came to a halt. They were less than two miles from the fortress gates. He was determined to arrive in the saddle and not on a litter like some invalid. After resting for a spell, the dizziness began to pass. “Is my sister planning a formal greeting or an informal one?”

  Ilrundel grinned. “You know Va-Eyra, she loves ceremony.”

  “In that case, give me a few moments longer to gain my strength for the coming ordeal.”

  “Whatever you need, my lord. I marvel you can even ride.”

  Redelfis appeared fascinated by the wall of stone ahead, “I wish Going Snake could see this. This is what a boulder must look like to an ant. Its walls reach into the sky.”

  Sur Sceaf wrinkled his brow as he looked up at the fortress rising out of the desert plain like a stone tipi with the top sliced off. It was so vast in scope that it had taken him twenty minutes on a fast horse to circle it.

  “It’s the remains of a volcanic crater that the Thunder Beings created in the times before man walked this land. The gods caused the earth to birth this crater in fire and water. Leaving a shell of stone. Over time, rain water collected inside the shell until it burst through the south side, leaving a large doorway. When the Herewardi discovered it, Sur Spear commissioned Muryh the Master Builder to make it into a formidable fortress by enclosing the crater with a massive wall on the south side.”

  Redelfis squinted. “How did they make gates that big?”

  Mendaka explained, “Sur Sceaf told me that the foresters harvested the hemlock and spruce timbers from the mountains of the Three Sisters and that it took skilled craftsmen two years to build and transport it here where the gates were reinforced with juniper timbers making it two man lengths thick. Hidden in the gates are two smaller doors. The one on the right is for the admission of individuals. The one on the left is for the admission of livestock for the abattoir. The gates are a giant magical puzzle full of functions you could never guess. You won’t believe the size of the huge iron hinges and steel girders that were forged in Witan Jewell by Sur Spear’s master black smiths and had to be hauled here by mule trains.”

  Ilkchild said, “Wait til you see the inside. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before.”

  Mendaka said, “Well, actually, remember the pictures from the Mountain Scrolls that Meny showed us? Some of the Red Tribes built cities like this in the stone canyons at the time some of our ancestors dwelt in the Arid Zone among the peoples called Ndee.”

  “Yes,” Redelfis said, “I remember, the stone cities looked like they had been built in a bowl or a dragon’s egg.”

  “Precisely, that is how you will find this city inside those walls.”

  Ilkchild said, “Trust me you will get lost unless I show you the major streets.”

  Sur Sceaf opened his eyes and let out a long sigh. “Alright, I’m ready to face my sister. Let’s hope she breaks with tradition and gives the ceremony in short form.”

  Ilrundel said, “Don’t worry, my lord, when she sees you, she’ll likely call for both the doctors and the grave diggers to attend.”

  Sur Sceaf laughed and then winced. His bruised and broken ribs were still unable to sustain the jarring of laughter. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Ilrundel led out again, keeping his steed at a slow walk. Soon they were passing over bridges that were no more than three feet wide, spanning more deep cracks into the earth. Most of the cracks were pitch black and offered no view of what was down under and provided an added defense against the Pitters who did not know when to expect them. Especially at night. They appeared to be made of cooled lava flow, speckled with holes from air or rain.

  As they drew closer, Redelfis said, “You’re right about those gates, Father. Looks like they collected a whole forest of trees and strapped them together with bands of iron.”

  Sur Sceaf remembered when his mo fa had brought him here for the ceremony of dedication. When they arrived the craftsmen and builders were still installing the gates. Using Quailor oxen and mules to raise them. He was sure if one of the gates fell, it would squash the workers and beasts like a fly swatter squashes a bug. But now they loomed large and strong, impenetrable and majestic. And they were now bracketed by large banners that bore the queen’s device on either side.

  When they were within the shadow of the looming walls, the watch men signaled by flag that they had arrived. The Trumpeters gave out three blasts and the huge gates began to crank open.

  White Fire nickered and began high stepping. Sur Sceaf patted the horse’s shoulder. “It’s alright boy, this is not a battle. They won’t hurt me. These are our friends. Several of your colts are stabled here.”

  The gates were still opening as they rode under the massive hemlock lentil. Redelfis let out a low whistle behind him. “By Tah-Man-Ea, this looks like a stone replica of Witan Jewell. Instead of being spread out, everything is stacked. Just like the pictures Meny showed us.”

  Sur Sceaf smiled to himself; the boy’s description was accurate. As testimony to Muryh’s genius, within this cauldron of rock was a stone city built in three successive levels from front to back with cobblestone streets, and stairs leading to the upper levels where there were shops for glaziers, a black-smithy, a bakery complete with large granaries and many, many cisterns. The buildings had also been fashioned of stone with thick thatched roofs. Directly ahead was a large central courtyard. At the far side stood the majestic Queen’s Hall patterned after the Shepherd Hall in Witan Jewel. A large portico supported by nine ornate white columns marked its entrance. Atop the triangular Portico roof was the Eye of Hrus looking down on the courtyard. At each end of the hall rose twin towers, each bearing a flag; one the flag of Herewardom and the other, the flag of the Desert Queen.

  As soon as the last of their party had entered the courtyard, the gates immediately reversed direction and began to close. Before them in the center of the courtyard a canopied platform had been erected. His sister, the queen, preferred the colorful contrast of white and blue stripes with aubergine accents.

  The queen stood at the top of three wide steps, resplendent in a silver robe with a stiff high collar adorned with blood-red Herewardi knots befitting her royalty. At the age of thirty-nine winters she was still slim, her chiseled face was ever as beautiful to look upon with those striking green eyes, and reddish auburn hair streaked with silver along her temples, which she always claimed had resulted from trying to tame Sur Sceaf in his wild youth.

  Sitting at her feet were her two sleek and tawny jaguarundi cats with jeweled collars attached to leashes she held in her hand. Behind the pavilion columns of red-clad fyrd warriors stood proudly at attention waiting to do her bidding. To each side of the platform stood a multitude of citizens cheering Sur Sceaf’s arrival. Several children waved flags that bore his Swan Banner. He pointed them out to Mendaka. “Va-Eyra’s attention to detail is always most impressive.”

  Ilrundel added, “That’s what makes her a good strategist. “

  All about the pavilion flew the queen’s silver banners with the singular double-rose on them snapping in the breeze.

  The trumpets blasted again. Mendaka teased, “She is really piling it on, Surrey. I’m impressed.”

  “On the contrary, Dak. This is all for you, she thinks you’re cute. Since Rusyrus’ death she’s on the lookout for a worthy man to share her throne.”

  “And who is going to save me from Little Doe’s skinning?”

  Sur Sceaf chuckled. “I just hope I don’t fall flat on my face during her speech of welcome.”

  Ilrundel called a halt a few feet away from the base of the stairs, where eager, green-clad grooms called beetles awaited to stable the horses at the queen’s livery. Mendaka jumped from his horse and came to help Sur Sceaf dismount. It took all his strength to keep from doubling over with pain as he swung his leg
over the pommel and with Mendaka’s help, slowly slid to the ground.

  Standing as straight as he could manage, he glanced up at the queen. Va-Eyra was surrounded by her ladies, her counselors, her jester in his harlequin suit, and her young heir apparent, Syr Elf, who was a brown-haired boy of ten or eleven winters, dressed in white pantaloons and a white blousy shirt tied in the middle by a golden silk scarf edged in aubergine.

  With a wave of her rose rood of office, she signaled the trumpeters to cease. She passed the rood to one of her ladies of court, and handed the leashes of her cats to Syr Elf. She took a deep breath as though to gather her composure. Instead of the formal greeting he expected, she silently studied him like a cat fixates on its prey. The longer she studied him, the more her expression took on a look of utter horror.

  “Dearest sister, if you keep me standing here much longer, I shall collapse at your feet.”

  She burst out laughing and, in that instant, moved from the formal ceremony of greeting to a big sister welcoming her brother home. Divesting herself of all queenly decorum, she hurried down the steps. Started to hug him, then pulled back, instead she gently took his bruised and battered hand, for which Sur Sceaf was grateful.

  “Whatever happened to you, my dear, dear Surrey? Your poor face looks like a potato pie, and you’re as crooked as a walking stick. Here you are, half naked for all the ladies of my kingdom to blush over, and no energy to kiss their yearning hands.”

  “Thanks for the compliments, Sister Dear. It appears the gods wanted to have me hammered on their anvil in dire darkness and doom. Only proven metal remains and not much of that, I fear.”

  “You may look like walking death, but by the seven rams of Almighty Odhin’s chariot, I’m going to nurse you back to your handsome health once again.” He started to protest. “None of that stoic pride of yours. You need tending. Pyrsyrus is due to arrive as early as three days from now. We don’t want him to see you like this. So we better get started.”

  * * *

  The infirmary occupied one wing of a large stone building on the ground level. It was comprised of a number of rooms, each with its own large fireplace, glass paned windows that could be opened to admit healing high desert air and sunshine, the two main ingredients included in all Herewardi medicine. Each room contained a varying number of beds, some for long-term patients and others with just rows of cots for temporary treatment. For privacy, a bed had been placed in a small room reserved for special guests. The queen had chosen an elite medical staff known as the Carp Doctors. They could be recognized by the orange carp like uniforms with a small hood that made them resemble a fish.

  As soon as they had arrived, the queen helped him to lie down in a large flat bed with white sheets, and then disappeared. Next to the bed was a table with a jar full of leeches and other medical tools. Hanging from the rafters were the many herbs and medicinal plants the Carps drew upon. Several censers were lit emitting their burning incense to create a cloud that hovered just below the rafters.

  A few minutes later she returned with two nurses dressed in their sleek fish-like uniforms. One was a heavy, blond woman in her fifties. “This is Gisela,” Va-Eyra said. The other was a slim brown haired girl just leaving her teens. “And this is Flicka. Gisela is well versed in healing and leechcraft and Flicka is skilled in singing into your wounds. She will also smoke you tonight in some curative vapors.” Va-Eyra continued after a momentary pause, “You need to get some rest. Don’t worry, I’ll see to it your friends are properly cared for.”

  Sur Sceaf was finding it hard to concentrate, but somehow he managed to croak out a “Thank you.”

  With Va-Eyra hovering like the doting sister she had always been, Gisela reached into the jar with some wooden tongs to extract the black leeches. One by one she placed them on the wounds of his head. Once she was finished, she and Flicka carefully turned him on his side and began cutting away the pieces of his cloth shirt that were stuck to his back. When Gisela was finished, Flicka gave him a concoction to drink. “We need to remove the remaining shirt that adheres to your back and treat those wounds with a salve of aloe and honey. This poppy tear potion will ease your pain and make you feel drowsy.”

  “Flicka, get me some clite, elehtre, and hoc-leaf.”

  Flicka said, “Right away, but don’t you need some ficwyrt with it?”

  “Later. Not now. But do bring me a little hylwyrt, it’s hanging near the door.”

  Somehow, he managed to drink down all of the foul tasting liquid without gagging.

  Almost immediately, Sur Sceaf felt himself sliding into sleep. He forced his eyes to open, but the lids became heavier and heavier and it felt as if the bed were lifting him toward the ceiling.

  The queen said, “Soon your brother Pyr shall be here to bless you. Then you shall be healed. For now, just sleep.” She said with one final gentle stroke of her hand across his cheek.

  “Don’t dare sleep. Much to say, Va-Eyra...”

  “Of course, my dear brother, but later.” She bent down and kissed him once again on the forehead. “Go to sleep, my gallant warrior and let the Light Elves and Faeries watch over you and keep you.”

  * * *

  Sur Sceaf awoke to Flicka singing into his wounds, accompanied by the braying of an ass in the courtyard just beyond the window. Bright sunlight streamed through the sparkling panes and puddled on the tile floor. It hurt to move. His body was still racked with pain as he carefully took stock. He lay between clean lavender-scented sheets in only his loincloth. Gisela was applying hot compresses of herbs to his lacerated legs. His hands and wrists were wrapped in gauze. He noticed the leeches had all been removed. Though still very sore, his back felt much better. Despite the soreness he still had to endure, he felt more energetic. For the first time he felt like his pain would have an end.

  From his left a voice boomed. “By Tah-Man-Ea, you are starting to look alive again. Good morning.” Sur Sceaf turned in surprise to see Mendaka slouching in a chair in his usual relaxed style.

  “I never thought the sunlight could look so beautiful, Dak.” Though his voice still had a rasp, he discovered his throat was not nearly as sore. “What day is it?”

  “You have slept for two days, my lord.”

  “Two--” He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “That is likely the chamberlain Va-Eyra has ordered to bring you a tray.” Mendaka got up to admit the liveried servant bearing a wooden tray with plates of fried eggs, bacon, and toast as well as a flagon of milk. The smell of the bacon served to invigorate him.

  Mendaka rose up. “Do you think you can sit up if I help you.”

  “I’m so hungry, I could sit up even if you don’t help me.”

  Laughing, Mendaka, assisted by Flicka, helped raise him to a sitting position, while Gisela supported him with additional pillows. Leaning back hurt. The welts on his back screamed, but he ignored the pain and managed to keep from wincing.

  Flicka put a pillow on his lap and the chamberlain placed the tray carefully on the pillow. “My lord prince,” said the chamberlain, “I shall be stationed outside your door should you require anything.” With a deep bow he took his leave and closed the door quietly behind him.

  Awkwardly, Sur Sceaf snatched up a strip of bacon with his bandaged hand and took a bite. “If you want any of this, Brother, you better dive in now.”

  Mendaka smiled. “No thanks, I’ve already had my breakfast hours ago with Lord Ilrundel. But I am looking forward to downing some ale with you as soon as you’re up for it.”

  Sur Sceaf took another bite, waved the bacon at his friend and said, “Give me another day and I’ll take you up on that.”

  Gisela shot him a disapproving look. “More like two weeks, my lord. I don’t want you reopening these wounds when you’re soused.”

  Sur Sceaf said, “One krug could do little harm.”

  “And that you shall have in two weeks.”

  Mendaka laughed. “Well, in that case I will excuse myself to check
on the young bloods. I’ll stop by to see you later.”

  After Surrey had finished breakfast, Flicka and Gisela, one on each side, escorted him to a small cubicle where ambulatory patients could relieve themselves. By the time they returned him to his bed, all three were sweating and breathing heavily.

  Giving him a stern look, Gisela wagged her finger at him and warned. “Next time, prince or no prince, you will use the chamber pot, or I’ll make you wear it.”

  He stifled a grin. “I can see why my sister chose you, Gisela. The two of you are so much alike.”

  The two nurses set about re-dressing his wounds and applying fresh salve. It infuriated him that just these simple tasks drained his energies and left him utterly exhausted. As Flicka took to smoking his wounds and singing into them once again, he found himself drifting off to sweet sleep. He was vaguely aware the women had left, closing the door softly behind them.

  He heard the clatter of wagon wheels outside followed by the bellow of oxen. He was drifting off once again when the laughter of children playing reminded him of how much, despite all the good care he had been given here, he missed home and the comfort of his own wives and children. A horrible reality crept into his soul. I must give credit to Master Yggd. Had he not sent the ravens to watch over me on my journey, then I would have surely died in the pit. I hope our paths cross again so that I may thank him. Almighty Woon, watch over and protect Master Yggd for all his good kindness toward me.

  And finally he slept deep.

  Chapter 4: Fire on Ea-Urth

  On the fourth day Sur Sceaf was awakened with the sound of Flicka once again singing into his wounds. To his surprise, when she finished he felt a surge of energy coursing through his veins. His strength was returning faster than he had thought possible the day before. He noticed they had removed all bandages from his hands and wrists. His back felt like a turtles shell with all the encrusted scabbing, but most of the pain was gone. He took a few cautious deep breaths and realized that he no longer felt the stabbing pains of his broken ribs. He asked, “Where is Gisela this morning?”