by Cory Barclay
But Steve placed his hand gently under her chin and tipped her face toward him. In a low voice, he said, “Will you go with me, Bel?”
“What will happen to the rest of us?” Dale asked, throwing his hands up in the air. “This seems a little selfish, Steve-o!”
“You will of course travel back to Terrus where you belong, Dale Thornton,” the Spirit Watcher said. “Steven will take my place on Ethereus, where he’ll keep the mirror. And what happens here on Mythicus, well . . . that’s up to the Mythics, isn’t it?”
Steve turned from Annabel, who still hadn’t answered his question. Her wide eyes sparkled.
“I have a suggestion, though, as the official ‘next in line’ guy, for the Brethren seat,” Steve said.
Scarlet put her hand on her hips. Her body posture said she was not happy Steve had an opinion. “And what suggestion would you have for us, human?” She said the last word not as a means of disrespect, but to make him understand that it was not his place to decide things for Mythicus. Not when he himself was not a Mythic. It would literally be like an alien coming to Earth and trying to become President of the United States.
Steve understood where Scarlet’s anger stemmed from.
But he carried on anyway. “I suggest Fuscia Amos take the reins,” he said, shocking everyone—not least of all Fuscia, who still perched atop the waterfall. “If my father had never forced his way into position, and Jareth had never usurped him, Fuscia would be next in line, correct?”
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. “That’s . . . yes. That is correct.”
“And of course Tiberius Reynolds should have no claim after his father’s short-lived reign. I doubt the people of Mythicus would support him anyway.”
“You’re damn right they won’t,” Selestria spat. Then she calmed. “But, Steven, do you understand what you’re saying?”
Steve nodded. “I think the women should take control of the Brethren once more, Sela. The men have royally fucked it up, haven’t they? And what better advisers could Fuscia have than the two women standing before me? Her own cousin—the niece of Overseeress Garnet; and a leader of the Vagrant Kinship—the wife of Tetsuo? This could be the glue that brings Mythicus back together!”
A thick silence fell over the group. Only the running waterfall in the distance made any noise.
Then Aiden clapped his hands once. “It’s bloody brilliant, mate!”
That opened the floodgate for everyone to talk at once.
Scarlet said, “I’m shocked at your . . . practicality.”
Selestria said, “I’m impressed. You really have thought a lot about this, haven’t you?”
Dale said, “That means I get to go home to Shannon?”
Aiden clapped Dale on the shoudler. “If the women are taking over, I’m going back to Terrus with you. No offense, ladies.”
Steve raised both his palms to quiet his party. “Please, guys.” He turned to Scarlet. “You’d agree to help your niece? Even though I’ve heard your claimed hatred for this place?”
Scarlet hesitated. “I . . . only hated Mythicus because of what it had become. If I could help return it to its former glory . . . yes, I would stay.”
Steve smiled. He faced Selestria. “And you, Sela? Could you help the new Overseeress bridge the gap between the Brethren and the Vagrant Kinship?”
“It’s a fine idea, Steven. I think I could be of assistance.”
Steve clapped. “Then it’s settled!”
Everyone chuckled and cheered.
Steve sighed and turned back to Annabel. He said, “And you . . . my love. Will you join me on Ethereus, to guard the mirror and watch the spirits?”
Annabel was giddy. In her mind, it was as if Steve had just proposed to her. How could she say no to that?
Her arms shot out and she lunged, wrapping Steve in a tight hug. “Oh, you idiot, of course I will!”
The Spirit Watcher folded her palms together in front of her. She said, “Then it is settled. I believe all your individual decisions are true. Though you won’t see me, son, I will always be with you. In my eyes, you’ll always be the Spirit Watcher that saved Mythicus.”
Steve thought he could see the outline of a smile underneath his mother’s veil. Before he could say “bye,” she became translucent, then vanished into thin air.
Annabel took Steve’s face and kissed him on the lips. When she pulled away, she said, “I’m so happy you’re taking me with you. And it’s a good thing you are, too!”
Steve grinned foolishly. “Why is that, my dear?”
“Because I forgot to tell you. I’m pregnant!”
EPILOGUE
Three months passed peacefully under Fuscia Amos’ reign. It was a reconstructive period in Soreltris.
The Brethren was getting back to its roots. They helped the less fortunate when needed, and besides that—for the most part—stayed out of people’s lives.
The Vagrant Kinship disbanded, its members assimilating into normal life, without war. Without a tyrannical government, there was no need for insurrectionists.
On a wintry night, Fuscia Amos gazed out from the edge of the peninsula surrounding the Bayfog Cliffs. She stared off at the Irenic Ocean—the Pacific Ocean, as it was called on Terrus. The waves toppled and broke on the rocks far below. Behind her stood the deserted, eroded structure known on Terrus as the Old Point Loma Lighthouse.
Alongside Fuscia stood her two most trusted advisors: Selestria and Scarlet. Selestria remained resolute in her solidarity, never taking up a husband after the loss of her beloved Tetsuo. She was the most able policymaker in Fuscia’s Council.
Once Scarlet Amos had become reacquainted with Mythicus, she’d invited an unsuspecting friend to join her, from Terrus. Michelangelo the cherub had come and the two had become ardent lovers. What better match than the angel who could never find love and the woman whose problem was finding too much love? Michelangelo calmed her lustful spirits. He enabled Scarlet to be the best friend and adviser to her cousin, the Overseeress.
Behind the quartet stood two hundred grayguards in perfect formation, their spears and shields at their sides. Fuscia’s lead general, Captain Pua Kila, stood in front of them. After the Onyx Uprising—as the battle between the Reynolds Brethren and Lee Vagrants came to be known—the title “blackguard” had left a sour taste in the mouths of the citizenry. Thus, Fuscia had rebranded the military as grayguards—a neutral name, for their supposed neutral disposition.
There was a reason for the strong military presence at the Bayfog Cliffs in the dead of night. For one, that was when Fuscia was in human form.
On the horizon, three large ships headed toward the bay. They were envoys from a different part of Mythicus. Fuscia had been expecting them.
She dreaded the question they came to ask.
When the ships landed at the harbor nearby, Fuscia was the first to greet the ambassador. He wore the garb of a military commander, and seemed at ease in his battle garb. Fuscia felt tense at meeting him.
“My lady,” the ambassador said with a low bow. “You must be the one they call the Feral Queen? The savior of these lands?”
Fuscia had gotten a bit of a reputation due to her “state.” The people did not speak her epithet in anger or fear. They said it to distinguish her from other ladies. She had forgone the Gemstone Naming of her Brethren predecessors.
She sighed and said, “Lady Fuscia is fine, my lord. And you are?”
The man was handsome, with long, dark hair flowing against the breeze, a thick mustache, and a strong jaw. He was a bit filthy in the face after being at sea for so long, but he kept up appearances well. His leather armor was spotless. He flashed her a disarming smile and said, “I am Commander Kaden of the Red Heaven Bridge, my lady. I hail from Norantris, five hundred miles north of here. My liege has chosen me as Ambassador to Soreltris, my lady. I hope we will become good friends.”
“Lady Fuscia already has plenty of friends, Commander,” Selestria said. She leaned on her quar
terstaff like a wizened wizard.
Scarlet said, “Yes, and as you’ll see, Commander, the Lady’s friends are of the fairer sex. Perhaps your liege did not know that when he chose his ambassador.”
Fuscia gave Commander Kaden the best fake smile she could, and stuck her hands out in surrender. “Please, ladies.” Scarlet and Selestria had become fiercely loyal in a short time, and she loved them for it. Also, she could see underneath this man’s façade. He spoke innocently and respectfully enough, but there was something about his voice that was . . . off.
Fuscia didn’t like it. Neither did her advisers, apparently.
Commander Kaden smiled back at her, equally as fake. It was clear now: they were playing a game. It was only a question of who would break civility first.
“Ah, very well, Lady Fuscia. I will defer to your fine ladies-in-waiting.”
Scarlet turned and peeked over her shoulder. Michelangelo stood with the grayguards and Pua Kila—only the three women had gone to meet the ambassador. She was clearly not a “lady-in-waiting.” When she faced the ambassador, her face was the color of her name.
Before Scarlet could blurt anything out, Fuscia spoke up on her behalf. “I’m afraid you have this all wrong, Commander. These are not silly girls hoping to wed into nobility. They are my closest councilors. You’d do well to remember that, and show them the respect they deserve. They both fought in a war to get to where they are.”
Commander Kaden’s face flashed embarrassment. He quickly recovered and bowed again. “My apologies, Your Grace. If I may get to the primary reason for my visit, perhaps we can start again on a better foot . . .”
“I already know why you’re here, Commander,” Fuscia said, narrowing her eyes at the handsome man. “And I can tell you . . . your visit is preemptive.”
Now Commander Kaden seemed affronted. He frowned for the first time, showing deep lines above his beard. It was proof he probably frowned most of his life. Also proof that this was all for show, and Fuscia, Scarlet, and Selestria saw right through it.
“You haven’t even heard my liege’s most generous offer, my lady,” Kaden said in a low voice.
“Speak it, then.”
“I am here to nurture a relationship between our two nations. My liege wishes to connect our lineages by offering a most gracious betrothal to you. It is his hope Norantris and Soreltris might embark on a trade alliance together. That of course would begin with—”
“My betrothal to one of your leader’s people,” Fuscia interrupted.
Caught off guard, Commander Kaden simply nodded.
“And let me guess . . . is it you?”
“Me?”
“Are you the man he offers so ‘generously’ to take my hand in marriage?”
Commander Kaden reddened. He waved a hand in front of his face and took a step back, shocked at Fuscia’s boldness. “I-I could never suppose, my lady! I am a simple military man, Your Grace. I could never guess my lord’s wishes—I can only issue his edicts.”
Lady Fuscia had had enough. She shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry you wasted your time sailing all the way down here, Commander, but I must decline.” She still hadn’t gotten over the loss of her lover, Charles Lee, who was as gentle and kind a man and werewolf as there ever lived. Beyond that, she wasn’t about to be bullied by some neighboring country’s king into a marriage for his benefit. That time was over.
She knew Norantris must have been paying attention to what happened in Soreltris. Now that the dust had settled, they wished to move in on the territory.
This was not a proposition of union, it was a threat of conquest.
Lady Fuscia bared her teeth and sneered, her protruding canines sinking over her bottom lip. “Besides, Commander, does your liege really want to promise one of his loved ones to the Feral Queen?”
All the pleasantness left Commander Kaden’s face. Clenching his jaw, he said, “This is a shame, my lady. I was hoping we’d come to an agreement—you haven’t even heard what’s in it for you—”
“And I don’t wish to, Commander. Please. Have a safe trip home.” Fuscia spun around, while Scarlet and Selestria eyed the Commander one last time, burning the image of his face into their minds. Then Fuscia said, “Come, ladies,” and they both turned and followed her back to the formation of grayguards.
As they walked back to the army, Fuscia smiled to her advisers. Scarlet and Selestria returned the mischievous grin.
“So, ladies,” Fuscia said, “who wants to wager that’ll come back to bite us in the ass?”
Selestria shrugged. “Have no fear. Even if it does, our people are united.”
“Yes, cousin,” Scarlet said, her plump red lips curling upward. “We’ll be ready.”
THE END
About the Author
CORY BARCLAY LIVES in San Diego, California. He enjoys learning about serial killers, people burning, mass executions, and hopes the FBI doesn’t one day look through his Google search history.
When he’s not writing stories he’s probably playing guitar, composing music, hanging with friends, or researching strange things to write about.
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