“Imogen is alive?” he said looking up to Lord Oakley for confirmation.
“So it says, Sire. I have no reason to doubt Lord Romley.”
Luca leaned back in his seat. While he was not close to either of his half-sisters, Imogen had always been the one kindest to him as a small boy. However, when she had married and gone to live in the Northern Marches with her husband, Luca had barely seen her to speak to. Knowing she was alive and well seemed to lift his spirits just a little, although he still felt somewhat gloomy as if a dark cloud were hovering over him blocking out any rays of hope or cheer.
“It says Elysia is calling my fathers…well, ‘My’ bannermen to her cause.”
Lord Oakley’s face suddenly turned much sterner, as if he had switched from the bearer of good news to one of far more serious consequences.
“I believe that is correct, Sire. My scouts have already reported seeing some extra activity in the south of Brenthellin.”
Luca lifted his hand up to his chin as if striking a thoughtful pose. “I mean you no disrespect Lord Oakley, but your forces will not stand a chance against the combined forces of Brenthellin.”
Lord Oakley didn’t appear insulted by the remark. Far from it. In fact, he seemed almost pleased that Luca had mentioned it.
“We have allies Sire. Lord Dalby has already promised more soldiers, and Lord Romley is declaring for you also.”
It took a few moments to digest the words Lord Oakley had spoken, and a few seconds more to realise what was being implied. The country was going to war. Not just the country, but from what he understood, he and his sister Elysia were going into some great head-to-head confrontation.
“You mean to say Arandor is at war with itself, and I am the cause?”
Lord Oakley immediately poured scorn on such a suggestion. “No, Sire. You are not the cause. You are the future and our hope for peace. If we have to fight to get that future then so be it!”
Lord Dalby, then added his agreement from his position at the side of the room before Edward of all people did the same.
Luca turned to look at the young man. “Are you not from Brenthellin, Edward?” Luca asked.
“I am, Sire,” Edward replied using a formality he did not use often.
“Then surely you should be against me?” Luca asked with a somewhat smug, childish smirk on his face.
Edward just made a scoffing sound. “I don’t think the people will support your sister, especially when they know she is being used as a front by Lord Elthan.”
Luca screwed up his face slightly. Clearly, Edward had some information that he did not. Although it had been suggested by Eli on his arrival that Lord Elthan was doing just that, any confirmation or declaration of such an accusation had not been made. As a result, Luca turned his attention back towards Lord Oakley, “Are we certain Lord Elthan is responsible? Surely all we have is suspicious circumstances, hearsay and conjecture?”
“No Sire, we now have proof.”
Luca looked puzzled but watched with intrigue as Lord Dalby stepped forward with another piece of parchment. Neatly folded it was slightly brown in colour, indicating it was probably poorly made. Luca spotted the dark reddish stain on the corner, and knew it to be dried blood as soon as Lord Dalby explained where they had retrieved it.
“This was on one of the attackers last night,” the man said handing over the note for Luca to read.
Luca tried to avoid touching the bloodied area, carefully and slowly unfolding the paper before reading what was written within.
Whoever had written the note had done so in a rather poor handwriting, almost childlike. However, it was readable, and Luca felt the colour draining from his cheeks as he mumbled the words out. The note was basically a written confirmation requesting a target for assassination. That target was him, and the thought that someone had sent this note halfway across the country requesting his death felt somewhat odd.
“Signed Loretta…?” Luca said the last words on the paper aloud.
“How is this tied to Lord Elthan?”
It was Lord Oakley who took it upon himself to explain.
“Loretta is the one who controls and is responsible for the growing number of cultists.”
Luca nodded, although still with no idea who she was or what it had to do Lord Elthan.
“She is the witch. The sister who was banished,” Lord Oakley added as if giving Luca clues rather than just give a straight answer.
“Lord Elthan’s sister?” Luca said aloud looking back and forth between the two nobles to see if he was right.
“Exactly right. And look on the back of the note Sire,” Lord Dalby added.
Luca quickly turned the paper over and immediately noticed what Lord Dalby wanted him to look at. Just a small red wax seal, but with the impression of Lord Elthan’s house impressed within it.
“Seems a bit careless. Lord Elthan effectively stamping a note, signed by his sister, tying them both to the crime,” Luca said thinking it was all a bit too good to be true.
“Probably thought they would succeed. Once you were out of the way, Imogen would likely be next. The cultist was probably supposed to destroy the note after receiving it,” Edward added from the back of the room.
Luca leaned back in his chair as he tried to make sense of what was going on. Lord Elthan was using his sister Elysia to front his own push to the throne. Being tied to the person who sat upon that throne, many of the lesser nobles in Brenthellin would, or at least should feel duty bound to rally to her call. However, as the true heir, the other major nobles, were calling for Luca to be king. War, it seemed, was coming whether Luca wanted it or not. Like Elysia, he was just a pawn, a figure, a face, a front for others to use and manoeuvre as they saw fit. Yet Luca knew if he were ever to get back to his life in the palace and become the king he had always been told he would become, then that is what he must allow people like Lord Oakley to do.
Chapter 13. The Witch.
Loretta, the older sister to Lord Elthan, lifted herself up from her bed. The young man beside her was still sleeping. She had no idea who he was or what he did, nor did she care. As a woman with needs, the palace and surrounding city was an endless playground for her, filled with such people to help satisfy her desires. The man, probably in his early twenties and much younger than she was, had performed well, although for what she had planned for him, would not be doing so again. Loretta liked to think that those she sacrificed were given one last moment of pleasure in the world. If that involved pleasing her at the same time then all the better, but this particular man would not see another day. For now, however, she would let him enjoy his last few hours, enjoying the freedom of his dreams, before having him taken down to the palace cellars where he would once more prove his use to her.
While she and her small entourage of followers allowed in the palace were given a royal suite for living in. Loretta needed somewhere dark and secluded to perform the necessary rituals that allowed her to utilise her somewhat special gift. Slipping quietly from her bedchamber, still completely naked, she was greeted by one of her closest followers, Sharice.
“Good morning Mistress,” the young lady said in her usual seductive voice.
Loretta smiled, her dark lips curling upwards as she reached out and touched Sharice’s face. Moving her hands slowly and gently down the side of her neck before leaning forward and kissing her gently on the lips.
“Good morning, Sharice,” Loretta finally said after she had finished kissing.
“I trust your guest was satisfying?”
Loretta grinned, recalling the previous night’s events, and the pleasures she had enjoyed with the young man in the other room. “Very much so,” she added as she moved slowly and elegantly over to where her robe lay across the back of the chair.
“Perhaps you would allow me to sample such desires, Mistress?” Sharice asked following her.
Loretta smiled again, before touching Sharice intimately, “Perhaps next time. This one has earned his r
est.”
Sharice twisted her body longingly, as Loretta moved her hand away and walked over to the table.
Food was already laid out for her, and with a choice, Loretta moved her attention away from Sharice. The offerings in the palace were a far cry from the years she had spent away from her own family after her banishment. Sent to live on the very outskirts of her father's lands, she was deemed a disgrace by her parents and forced to live among the less desirable in society, where Loretta had expanded her numbers by recruiting cultists. Like-minded people who were ready to follow and die for her, who worshipped the dark satanic forces that gave her powers. Slowly over time, her following had spread to other parts of the kingdom, and now gave her a network of people at her disposal. With that pool of followers to call upon, Loretta was now a person to be feared. Added to the fact that she had certain gifts that enabled her to keep watch and manipulate her enemies, Loretta was not a person to be taken lightly. Her brother had seen her influence, and as soon as he had taken the position of head of the family lands, he had seen fit to bring her back.
Appreciative of the finer things in life, Loretta’s breakfast was more than enough for several people, yet was placed for her alone. Naturally, if she wished to share it with anyone she sometimes did just that, but this morning that was not to be the case. Picking up a piece of toasted bread she spread a little fruit preserve across it and took a bite, eating her breakfast while walking slowly around the room. Pausing to stare out of the window and gaze up at the morning sky, Loretta suddenly had a thought as to how she could help her brother. If reports were to be believed, the cultists that she had ordered to assassinate the boy prince had failed, although she knew they would keep trying. However, now she was aware of his whereabouts, perhaps a little witchcraft might be useful to help their cause.
When breakfast was finished, the young man that had spent the night with her was awoken and given a drink. However, as it contained a special potion created by Loretta, the man soon collapsed back down on the bed. Though not dead, at least not yet, the magical potion used would make it much easier for her to carry out the sacrifice. Having her victims writhe and struggle during her ceremony did not best please the dark spirits with which she wished to communicate. In exchange for this one's life she had already decided on her next course of action, and the request to the shadows she needed to make.
So as not to alarm the staff in the palace, Lord Elthan had given his sister, and her handful of followers permitted within, sole access to one of the cellars. As a result, not only was this also out of bounds, but the staircase and stone steps leading down to it were also off-limits. Having two of her assistants escort the drugged young man down the stairs and steps, Loretta walked slowly and patiently behind them. With two more black-robed cultists following her, she walked with confidence and an impunity to any fear. When one such as her bargained with such evil forces, fear was something they could detect and feed upon.
The cellar was cool, damp, the type of conditions that Loretta prefered, all in stark contrast to the overly-warm dryness of the palatial royal suite. Here the air felt and smelled old and stale, and with the ground directly beneath her, she felt closer to those she worshipped. Illuminated by just a few small lamps, she and her followers cast long, vague, flickering shadows against the bare stone walls. There was nothing grand about this area of the royal residence, far from the view of any dignitaries, the builders had left it pretty much the same as the day it had been built. Cold grey concrete floors with large stone support pillars, interspaced every ten paces, rose up, filling what Loretta thought would have been a good open space.
Using an old oak table as her altar, Loreta ordered her sacrifice to be placed down upon it. The four other cultists then stepped slightly back and kneeled, their heads covered by their dark hoods. Her victim stirred slightly, giving her a sign that he was still very much alive, although his time now was short. With the spell she wanted to cast involving a single person, she needed something personal to that individual. Hence, after much searching and deliberation, Loretta had acquired some of the young prince’s clothing. Unwashed and apparently discarded they still carried the scent of the boy, and would now serve her purpose perfectly. Tying the spell to the prince and knowing his location should make it easy for her to pinpoint when the time was right.
Slowly, almost seductively, Loretta ran her finger down the middle of the man’s bare chest. Lean and well defined, she thought it a most desirable body, almost a shame to hand it over to the dark shadows to use as they wished. Taking a deep breath, Loretta started her spell, and her followers behind her started chanting to the name of the entity that commanded the underworld.
As the noise of her followers got steadily louder, building up to a great crescendo, Loretta spoke her spell one more time. Lifting the special knife she carried at her waist, she held it high above the man’s chest waiting to strike, poised like a snake ready to make its kill. The cellar grew slightly warmer, and the air around carried the now familiar aroma of brimstone, a sign that a connection had been made. A dark shadow moved slowly across the wall in front of her before slipping down across the floor towards her makeshift altar. Knowing now was the time, with the knife held in both hands she plunged the blade down quick and hard. Although just catching a rib, she felt it sink deep into her victim's flesh, and all being well, piercing his heart. The man let out one last, somewhat feeble and pathetic noise as she withdrew her dagger and took one step back.
The shadow moved up covering the fresh corpse like a blanket of darkness, consuming both the flesh and soul it was being offered. Loretta mumbled her spell again and her request to the powers of darkness that she be granted their gift. Loretta watched as the body before her slowly shrivelled as if time had been greatly accelerated and the corpse had decomposed. Within a few seconds, it was all over, and all that was left of the man that had so efficiently satisfied her needs the previous night was just a dark outline upon the table top. The shadow was gone, and the air around her cooled once more as the entity slipped back to its depths, one soul and one body better off.
Although Loretta had discovered her witchcraft by accident, most of what she knew had been self-taught. A little by old books and scrolls, but mostly from trial and error, the latter of which had at times been at great expense. It was evidently clear to her that whoever it was that controlled the darker forces of life did not take kindly to novices fooling about with powers they did not understand. Her first attempts to contact these powers had been a disaster, and only by forgoing the souls of several of her closest followers had she managed to appease the power of the shadows. However, through careful study and no small amount of effort in sourcing the necessary information, Loretta had learned how to use the powers she had. Now, having made a fresh sacrifice and cast her spell, she hoped the forces of darkness would help her, and her brother, overcome their recent setback.
As if it were nothing more than an everyday occurrence, Loretta turned about and headed back up the stone steps, leaving the cellar behind. Once back in the palace, she felt the air around her become dry and warm, almost stifling and thought it would soon be time for her to move back to her old residence. Once her powers had helped her brother achieve what they had set out to do, she could revert to living her own life once more. Forever delving for new information, she hoped to one day travel, spread the cults she had beyond the boundaries of the kingdom. There must be others like her out there in the world, but being as witchcraft was typically forbidden, and ordinarily punishable by death, finding any like minded people would not be easy. Had her mother and father not been the Lord and Lady of her homeland, she would have very likely been burned alive, as was usually the punishment for such activities. However, as their daughter, they had at least shown her some mercy and merely disowned her, banishing her to the far corners of their little part of the kingdom.
Although asked not to by her brother, Loretta passed beyond the area that she and her followers had been permitted
to use. Entering parts of the palace she was supposedly forbidden from travelling, she passed two guards on duty in the corridor. Both men clearly knew who she was, and though they were probably aware of her limited movement within the building, neither thought it wise to stop her from proceeding further. Loretta glanced at both men as she passed, checking to see if either were to her taste and preference. Although older than both men, Loretta’s appearance made her look much younger than she was. However, as she preferred younger, athletic types neither of these two men fitted her criteria, and she duly continued onwards down the corridor towards her brother’s suite.
The two guards positioned outside the rooms being used by her brother were far more switched on to their duties. Before she even approached, both men had their hands on the hilts of their swords and moved to block her from entering. Loretta smiled, walking up to the front man and seductively running her finger on the man’s cheek. The soldier never flinched once, and Loretta knew that this was a man that showed no fear, and would likely run her through with his sword should she give him reason enough to do so.
“I wish to see my brother. Could you tell him I’m here please?” Loretta asked, turning her attention to the second guard.
Lord Elthan, although somewhat annoyed by his sister’s lack of understanding of the rules he had laid down for her, invited her into his suite nonetheless. After proffering her a chair, he duly ambled over to the sideboard and poured two glasses of sherry from a crystal glass decanter.
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