by T. S. Ryder
Thoughts raced through his mind as he rushed toward his destination over the mountains and trees far beyond the horizon. Night was closing in when he reached the village. The two moons were rising in the sky. It didn’t take him long to find the place. The remote village wasn’t very crowded as it had only a few houses constructed upon the hill. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head as he approached the house. A lone lamp hung near the door, its dim blue light only bright enough for one to see their way to the door. He knocked twice and waited. The door creaked opened and an old man with silver-white hair stood there. He wore ancient robes, the kind he had worn when he was a child.
“I am here to see Ornek Zorlu. He formerly served as Royal Guard to King Bu’Rak Rezan Urquiorra,” Erdal said. He was careful, as he wanted to be sure and didn’t want to raise any suspicion.
Ornek gazed at the hooded man at the door for a while.
“Young man, tell me your purpose. Why do you want to see him?” Ornek played along, stepping cautiously.
“Because he told me to come,” Erdal said. He saw the light shift in the gray eyes of the old man. He had a strong feeling that this was the man. It was a distant memory, but it was true. The man had aged but his eyes were the same.
“Erdal,” the old man whispered, incredulous. “My lord, I never thought I would see you again.” He bowed slightly in respect, and when he looked up there were tears in his eyes.
“Ornek,” Erdal said gently, as he showed him the Erasmeth. “You gave this to me a long time ago.”
“Come on in,” Ornek said, motioning for him to enter. “It’s not safe out here.”
Erdal stepped inside and threw back his hood. The house was sparsely decorated but clean. The west wall was lined with books and two old chairs and a table were placed in its center. The east wall was windowed with a table standing underneath. Ornek poured wine into two glasses and handed Erdal one, gesturing for him to sit.
“Thank you,” Erdal said, taking the glass. “I see you are alone.”
“Yes, my lord,” the old man said. “My wife died long ago and my daughter lives far away with her husband.” Erdal pulled out the scroll from the Erasmeth and handed it to the old man. Ornek recognized his own hand and, when he looked up, tears sprang to his eyes. He told Erdal of how he had served his father, the true king, for centuries until that one fateful night. Erdal told him all. Everything – who he was and what he had become.
“Ornek... I don’t know who I am, and I may not be the same man,” Erdal said pensively as he sipped his wine. “I have killed and abducted women for Zutaar. I didn’t even know the scroll existed until Natalie found it.” He took another swig. “I’ve been on the run. Natalie and I are hiding in a cabin house in the mountains. But now I want Zutaar dead.”
Ornek gazed at him for a long time and his eyes softened. He saw the little boy who had grown into a warrior – a man who had endured all and survived. He was a warrior who hid his tormented soul behind the harsh exterior of an assassin.
“Natalie... Your mate?” Ornek inquired, raising a brow.
“Yes, my mate and fiancée,” Erdal replied. “She was the one who told me to claim my rightful place.”
“And she’s right,” the old man said softly. “How is she?”
“She’s doing okay,” he said and paused for a second. “She’s expecting our first,” he added.
“That’s great news, my lord. Congratulations,” he said, smiling. “Erdal, the royal Urquiorra blood courses through your veins, and there is no doubt you are the true heir,” he said in a sober voice. “I will help you claim your rightful place.” He added.
“We must overthrow the king,” Erdal said, rage seeping into his eyes. “That is the only way.”
“First, we will go there and you will claim the throne. I have enough evidence to convince the Council members who might question us,” Ornek said. “If he resists, then you do what you have to.”
“Great,” Erdal said. “We leave now. We’ll stop over at the cabin and check on Natalie, and then we will continue on.”
“Yes, my lord. I’ll go pack up then,” the old man said.
***
Natalie was fast asleep when the mercenaries entered the house. One of the men clamped a hand over her mouth, waking her with a start. He roughly dragged her out of bed and pinned her hands behind her as her back collided against his chest. She clawed at the man’s hand covering her mouth, struggling to get free.
“Don’t make a sound or I’ll slit your throat, woman.” She stalled, scared out of her wits.
Her heart raced, her baby kicking as tears streaming from her eyes. The color drained from her face as she saw him enter the room. Gezek gawked at her. She blanched, shuddering at his sight.
She was sure they would kill her. Oh, Erdal, where are you?
“Search the house, find the traitor,” Gezek barked.
“Sir, the house is empty.” One of the henchmen said.
“Where is he?” he said in a raspy voice as neared her. The man took his hand away from her mouth and she gasped for air. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she cried. She must protect the baby...
“I... I don’t know,” she sobbed, hysterical.
“Put her out and take her away. We don’t have much time,” he said as he gave her a disgusted look and stalked away.
The man holding her pressed something cold and hard into the side of her neck and her skin burned. In the next few seconds, her vision blurred and she fell into oblivion.
Chapter Ten
Erdal clenched his teeth and balled his hands into fists, knuckles turning white as he gripped the modular controller of the car. They flew over the peaks and sped through the night toward the castle. The open front door, the ransacked house, the empty bed and no sign of Natalie drove him insane. Then there was the mark carved on the door that signified that the king’s men had been there. His chest constricted as terrible thoughts raced through his mind. What if they were torturing her? What if she were already dead? And what of the baby? He screamed inside. If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself. A splitting headache thrummed at his temples as he tried to control his rage.
Ornek felt the young man’s distress. The fury surging through his blood was almost tangible. He knew Erdal would stop at nothing. He wouldn’t rest until he found her.
There was still a long way to go as they flew through the breaking dawn over the horizon.
***
Natalie awoke, pain searing her head. She gasped, her breathing labored. She tried sitting up. A wave of nausea hit her and, bending over, she threw up. She tried to focus her blurry vision in the dim blue light of the small room. She recognized the place. It was the same cell they had locked her up in months ago. Her hands were free but her feet were shackled and tied to a chain on the wall. She still couldn’t breathe properly and felt pressure on her chest. The pills – she must take them now... Then it hit her. She wasn’t carrying any. How long had she been there? She wanted water, her throat felt dry. She desperately needed to relieve herself. She wished Erdal were there. With that thought, her eyes pooled with tears and she sobbed uncontrollably.
The door to the cell creaked open and in stepped Gezek. His heavy boots clomped on the floor as he strode toward her. She cringed and inched back toward the wall, chills running down her spine.
“Tell me, woman,” he rasped, “where is he?”
“P-Please... I need the b-blue pills...” she gasped, trying to catch her breath.
A sharp, burning pain hit her cheek as her head turned sideways.
“Shut up, bitch!” he snarled. “Answer me first. Where is Erdal?”
She was shocked by the impact of the slap as blood oozed from her nose and dripped onto the front of her white nightdress. A fit of coughing shook her for a while. When it was over she lay on the floor, only half conscious.
“Get up!” he barked and kicked her leg. “You pathetic whore,” he spat at her.
She scre
amed. “Please... stop... he’s gone,” she gasped, as tears streamed down her face. “He’s gone to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“His guardian,” she said, wanting to get the ordeal over with. She couldn’t risk the life of her baby.
“Give me a name!” he barked, bending down and roughly clasping her jaw with his hand. She was forced to stare into his beady, dark eyes.
“Ornek...” she whispered. “Th-that’s all I know. Please let me go now,” she implored. The hardest of hearts would have melted, but Gezek was blind to another’s pain.
He let go of her face and slapped her hard, again. She fell on her side, unconscious.
“Shut up or I will cut out your tongue,” he seethed. “Stupid cunt.” He strode out of the cell, slamming the door behind him.
***
It was noon the next morning when Erdal pulled his hood down his face as he followed Ornek toward the throne room. He had slung his Light-Shard over his shoulder and his jaw was clenched. He was late... He should have got here earlier. A strange gleam lit up his emerald eyes, a lethal resolve in his step.
Zutaar sat upon his throne, talking to Gezek, when Ornek and Erdal were led into the throne room.
Erdal couldn’t wait any longer. He stepped forward and took off his hood. The king’s guards immediately surrounded them, swords and crossbows pointing at them.
“Zutaar,” he said, in a cold and demanding voice, “where is Natalie?”
“Look who’s here,” he sneered. “The rat has left its hole.” His laughter echoed through the halls.
“Where is she?” Erdal demanded in a seething voice, blood pounding in his veins.
“She’s in the dungeons, Erdal,” he said, calmly. “And I will punish you both as fugitives.
“My lord, I’m sorry, but please hear me out,” Ornek began. “Erdal here is the rightful heir to the throne. I have evidence to back it up.”
“And who are you to make such a claim?” the king demanded.
“I am Ornek Zorlu, Royal Guard to King Bu’Rak Rezan Urquiorra. Lord Erdal here is his son, the rightful heir.”
Zutaar’s expression shifted.
“Take them to the yard and behead them!” he yelled at the guards.
The guards closed in and, with a swift move, Ornek unsheathed his Katana and beheaded the first guard who approached him. He was fast for an old man. He quickly killed off the other three men who came at him next.
Erdal glimpsed Ornek in combat with Gezek next, as Ornek parried his blow. Then, swiftly, he slit his throat, and Gezek dropped to the floor, dead. Erdal quietly admired the old man’s skills as he quickly made his way toward the throne, jumping over the bodies on his way. His heart thrummed in his chest, rage surging through his blood as he gripped the hilt tighter.
Zutaar got up and unsheathed his own sword. He lunged at Erdal, blindly swinging his sword at him. Erdal dodged, stepping sideways, and braced himself for another parry. He saw the gleam of madness in the king’s eyes.
“Gezek tells me the woman is a real weakling,” Zutaar smirked. “And you dare defy me for her?” He snarled as he lunged toward Erdal again.
Erdal parried the attack by holding his Light-Shard vertically in front of him. The king carried his sword clumsily as he had not taken it up in years, but he was stronger and taller than Erdal. He came at him again and Erdal dodged his lunge. Yet, Zutaar pounded him in the ribs with a small club in his other hand. He then swung again, hitting Erdal in the face.
Erdal staggered and fell backward. His head reeled and his ears rang as hot, searing pain shot up his jaw and the side of his chest. His vision blurred for a few seconds as he tasted warm, metallic blood in his mouth. A wave of nausea hit him.
Get up! Get up now! You can’t let him win! The voice in his head yelled as he saw the king advance toward him. The image of his mother and father lying in a pool of their own blood flashed across his mind as he struggled to get up. He grabbed his Light-Shard from the floor beside him and got to his feet. The king clumsily swung his sword again, and this time, as Erdal parried, the blades clashed, metal clanking against metal. He felt the impact reverberate through his arm. Erdal had the kind of strength and agility that the other lacked. His years of experience in the arena had taught him how to survive. He stepped forward and swung his Light-Shard, slashing the left arm of the king and leaving a large open gash in its wake. Dark blood gushed forth and the club fell from his grasp as he cried in pain. The king lunged forward, wildly swinging his sword at him. Erdal moved sideways, dodging the clumsy attack.
“This is for hurting Natalie,” he said coldly. Quick as lightning, he slashed his other arm, cutting it off. More blood, dark as tar, spilled. He continued advancing as Zutaar retreated, screaming, until he fell backward on the steps leading to the throne. Erdal was upon him immediately, pointing his katana at the murderer’s heart.
“And this is for father and mother,” Erdal said, tears glistening in his eyes, as he raised his Light-Shard. He plunged the thin blade into Zutaar’s chest, severing his dark heart. The pseudo-king convulsed and breathed his last, the light escaping his cold, gray eyes. His body lay still in an ever-increasing pool of dark blood.
***
Erdal found Natalie unconscious on the dark floor. She was pale and her skin seemed gray in the dim light. Her breathing was ragged and her pulse faint, but she was alive. He carried her in his arms to the sickbay, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Dr. Barca took her in. Kissing her forehead, Erdal left her in his care. An hour later he reported she was stable and the baby was fine. She needed breathing pills and was dehydrated. He had given her a sedative to put her at ease. She was stronger than she seemed, the doctor reassured.
Erdal heaved a sigh of relief as he gazed at the now confused and scared faces of the council members. Half an hour earlier, when he got back to the meeting room, there was chaos among the council heads. Ornek had already briefed them about the situation and showed them the documents that proved Erdal was the true heir to the throne.
They wanted some time to think it over, but as Ornek said, there was no doubt about it. They had no choice but to agree.
Epilogue
Erdal sat by the bed in the sickbay and watched her sleep. He had almost lost her. Again. His chest constricted at the thought. If something had happened to her or the baby, he could never have forgiven himself.
Natalie stirred and her eyes fluttered open.
“Erdal,” she whispered his name, and he felt a familiar pull toward her.
“I’m here, my love...” he bent down and planted a kiss on her soft lips.
“Oh, Erdal!” she cried, as he took her in his arms. “I thought I would never see you again!”
“Hush,” he whispered into her hair, taking in her sweet scent. “I rule this land now, so everything will be okay.” He smiled down at her, and then kissed her deeply. “And you will be my beautiful queen,” he said pulling apart.
“You have claimed the throne?” she asked, ever so softly. “What happened to Zutaar?” She saw the side of his face was still slightly swollen, and she could only imagine what he must have endured.
With Dr. Barca’s treatment, his wounds had healed quickly.
“He’s dead,” Erdal said darkly. “We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“Even if he’s gone, don’t you ever leave me alone...” she said.
“I promise you, I will always be at your side,” he said as he gazed deep into her eyes. “And, as my queen, I will lay the world at your feet. I will make you feel loved like no man has ever loved you. I will mark your soul with my touch so deeply that you will crave for nothing more. I will ensnare you with my love, touching you in those secret hidden places you don’t even know exist. Only then will you know what it means to be my queen.”
She gasped, speechless, as her heart beat faster.
He kissed her again. “Oh, and Dr. Barca tells me that it’s a boy,” he said, smiling his gorgeous smi
le, as he placed his palm on her belly.
“Really? What should we name him?” she asked, smiling.
“Arion,” he said, “he will be Arion Erdal Bu’rak Urquiorra.”
***
Six months later, he stood waiting at the steps leading to the pavilion overlooking the sea. It was draped in gold and white with ivory flowers encircling the gold columns. He wore a dark suit with dark pants, the royal cape draped over his shoulders. He couldn’t stop gazing at the beautiful woman who walked toward him.
She wore a low-cut, backless gold silk and chantilly gown with intricate ivory and gold designs. She held a sleek, gold staff in her hand, a tradition of their race. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun, and she wore an intricate gold tiara on her head. She ambled up to him with a civilized grace gazed into his eyes. The women from the harem were her bridesmaids. They had been set free. Many of them had volunteered to work at the palace while others left for their home planets. One of the bridesmaids held their two-month-old son as she stood by, watching.
Natalie took his hand and he slid a large sapphire onto her finger. They exchanged their vows and Ornek declared them man and wife.
After the ceremony, they stood alone at the far end of the pavilion, gazing at the beautiful sunset arcing over the sea. He held her hand and she rested her head on his shoulder, gazing at the horizon awash with golden and purple hues. He turned to her, his emerald eyes full of love and warmth, and she blushed. He could still do that to her. She bit her lower lip, and he bent down and claimed her mouth with his, his tongue demanding and receiving all of her. As always, he took her breath away, and she wondered what she had done to deserve such a man.
Their hearts beat as one, and the calm sea reflected the peace within their souls. Together they ruled their kingdom and their people loved them. They were remembered long after they were gone.