Even though Mayvard had yet to see her bare body, for they wished to save themselves for their wedding night, Myranda made no attempt to cover herself. She was so relieved that he was alive she cared for nothing else and threw herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders.
Mayvard let out a cry of pain as she pushed against the arrow that was stuck in his shoulder and she backed away from him, apologizing.
“Am I dead?” He finally asked in confusion. Myranda shook her head.
“I am hallucinating then.” He chuckled and rubbed a rough palm against his forehead. “I could have sworn that you were a crow just now.”
“You are not hallucinating. I never told you, but I can transform into animals when I will it.”
“You can do what?” Mayvard did nothing to hide his appalled expression.
“That is not important right now. What is important is that Bhrys has betrayed us and it is all over. Somehow, you have survived and you must waste no time in getting to safety.” Myranda paused and looked out to the dead men at her feet, taking notice of them for the first time. The entire army of Axendra had been massacred. It was a miracle that Mayvard still stood before her.
She turned back to Mayvard and spoke with a shaky voice. “Travel to Mordrid. I will meet you there before morning.”
Mayvard laughed out loud. Myranda cocked her head to the side, wondering what could possibly be funny.
“Are you trying to save me? And what will you do when I am gone?”
“There is something I must tend to.” She replied, not wanting to explain her intentions to Mayvard. Save me. The High Protector’s voice was as loud and clear in her thoughts as it had been in her dreams.
Mayvard’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head at her disapprovingly. “I will travel to Mordrid, yes. But I must find Rhada first. She could be in great danger.”
Myranda shook her head, remembering his arrow-riddled body from her vision. She knew that if he entered the castle, he would be dead within minutes.
“You must go now!” She said in a commanding tone she never would dare use with him. Mayvard looked to her with surprise.
“You know that I cannot leave her behind!” Myranda could tell he was growing angry with her but she would not give in. She would do anything to save his life.
“You must! She is probably already dead!” Myranda argued.
“I have to make certain. If there is a chance she is alive, then I am her only hope. No one else in this world would dare risk their lives to save hers.”
“And for good reason!” Myranda shouted back. She cowered at the scowl that he shot her way.
“You go to Mordrid. I will meet you there when I can.” Mayvard spun and began to walk away from her but she shouted after him.
“Mayvard stop!” He stopped and turned back to her with anger in his eyes. But before he could say anything, Myranda closed her eyes and felt the wave of euphoria that encircled her body. It pushed her mind forward and traveled to Mayvard who stood unaware of what was happening.
His sword hand relaxed and he lowered the blade. He turned away from the castle fully and began walking away from her. “I must go to Mordrid. I shall be waiting there for you my love.”
Myranda opened her eyes and watched Mayvard until he was no longer visible to her. She took in a long, deep breath, trying to fight away the guilt that immediately washed over her. She hated that she had to commit the one crime she had vowed she would never commit. Already she had broken her vow with Lady Ashryn, but to use it on the man she loved was truly shameful. I will do anything to save his life. And so she had.
Myranda decided to waste no more time standing in the rain. She formed the shape of the black bird in her mind once more and soon she was soaring through the air on open wings. She flew up high, looking to the battlements for any sign of the High Protector. What she saw was death and destruction. There was no sign of life on top of the castle and she wondered if Rhada’s body was amongst the dead.
As she was soaring over the sea of dead, her eyes caught a glimpse of something that drew her attention- a flash of light coming from the King’s chamber. She turned her direction and flew to the balcony where she found the Queen, standing with her back facing the world. Her eyes were glowing with an eerie light and her hands were raised high above her head. Then Myranda turned her gaze to the man who lay writhing on the floor and she instantly recognized Emeric. He lay amongst ashes and still burning embers and half his face had been melted away.
Myranda was taken by surprise when she saw light emanating from the Queen’s open palms. And when the lights turned into tiny flames, she finally understood- the Queen is a witch!
Myranda did not hesitate. She flew towards the Queen’s face with her talons outstretched and aimed for her eyes. The Queen screamed and swung her hands blindly at Myranda, actually hitting her once. She backed away but when she saw the blood that raced down the Queen’s face, she flew forward once more and grasped at the tiny balls of jelly that were once her eyes. She pulled them from the sockets and dropped them to the floor.
Emeric lay on the floor, watching the Queen with his one good eye as she screamed and flailed. Then he jumped to his feet and rushed towards her.
Myranda hovered over the balcony and watched with her sharp eyes as the Queen was pushed over the edge. She listened to her screams grow smaller and smaller until there was no sound at all. Then she flew away before Emeric could take notice of her.
She flew back towards the castle and into an open window, hoping that she would find the High Protector inside. She flew down several flights of stairs until she was on the main floor and stopped when she heard noises coming from the great hall. She landed softly on the cold, stone floor and formed a picture of a rat in her mind. She felt herself shrinking and noticed the tingle of her feathers turning into fur.
She squeaked loudly and sniffed at the air. She could smell so many things with her rat’s nose but the most prominent smell that lingered was blood. She could almost taste it as it filled her nostrils. She raced forward towards the smell and found herself entering the great hall where Lord Ivran and his men stood. They filled the entire room, leaving barely any space for her to dart between their feet.
Finally she found the source of the smell. Just like in her vision, she stood before the King’s lifeless body- his neck a gaping hole where a head should have been. The blood poured from it like a river and Myranda crinkled her nose. She knew the rat would be drawn to such a smell but her human brain told her that it was an offensive aroma- one she would have nightmares about in the nights to come.
Then she saw the slightest bit of movement from the corner of her eye and she turned her tiny rat head towards the service entrance.
The High Protector had been standing there. She caught a glimpse of her pale face just before she disappeared into the hallway.
Myranda darted after her, moving as fast as her little rat legs would carry her and soon she realized she had not been the only one to spot Rhada.
A man who she remembered by the name of Stanwyck was fast on her trail and it took all the strength Myranda had to keep up with him.
She followed him as he turned round a corner and stopped when he stopped, darting into the shadows when he called out the word witch. The sound of his voice was deafening. It echoed off the walls of the hallway and made her wish she had hands to cover her ears with. Then he was running forward, the vibrations of his footsteps shook her like an earthquake.
Myranda raced forward, not wanting to lose her sight of either of them and watched as Stanwyck attacked the High Protector.
Should I intervene? She wondered, hoping that neither of them would end up wounded. Rhada seemed to be thinking the same thing. She raised her sword in defense only and never rushed forward to attack. This was making Stanwyck angry. He shouted at her to attack him and finally she did. She sliced at his legs and the air was rank with the smell of blood once again. Myranda took one more step into t
he shadows, hoping to escape the blood. She hoped that Stanwyck would not attack again but he was on his feet once more, rushing at her with all his might.
Myranda recoiled in fear as Rhada spun and grasped him by the shoulder, shoving her blade hard into his back. More blood filled the air and when his body hit the ground, it shook Myranda to the core. Her heart beat furiously in her chest and she wondered what she was doing there.
Why must I aid her? She thought to herself as she raced after the now fleeing High Protector- the image of Stanwyck’s death fresh on her mind.
Suddenly, the High Protector stopped and turned towards the wall. She looked to both her sides, making certain no one was watching her and pulled on a stone from the wall. The wall suddenly opened like a door and Rhada darted behind it, closing it tightly behind her and disappearing into the wall as though she had never existed.
Myranda focused on her human form and kept her eyes open as she grew taller and taller. She looked around as well for prying eyes and when she knew she was alone, she stepped to the wall and placed an open palm on it. She could see a tiny indent on one of the stones and she placed her fingers on the inside. She knew that if she pulled on it, the door would open.
Angry shouts echoed down the hallway and she knew Lord Ivran had found his dead companion. Myranda quickly shifted back into a rat and ran in the opposite direction towards her bedchamber. She knew what she had to do but she was not going to do it naked.
Chapter 30
Lord Ivran placed the tips of his forefinger and middle finger between the golden crown and the King’s bloodied hair. Carefully, he pried the crown away and dropped the head to the ground, letting it roll away from his feet. He turned away from it, never wanting to lay eyes upon the King’s face again.
He held out the blood-stained crown for Lord Onas to take. The old man lifted a shaky hand and grasped the crown tightly, not wanting to drop it.
“Have that cleaned.” Lord Ivran commanded and Lord Onas bowed his head slightly. Lord Ivran felt uneasy at this gesture, for both he and Onas were of equal status. Not for long. It was a gesture he realized he was going to have to get used to.
Lord Ivran looked up to his soldiers and smiled with pride. They had taken the castle with relative ease and killed the King who was responsible for all their suffering. Now there are three more who must be dealt with.
“Protector Raibyr?” He asked, scanning the men for Raibyr’s familiar face.
“Here, my Lord!” He shouted as he stepped forward from amongst the crowd.
“Take a few men and retrieve the Queen. She must be judged for her crimes against the realm.”
“The Queen is dead.” A solemn voice said from behind. Lord Ivran spun in surprise and found Protector Emeric, standing hunched in the doorway of the great hall. He leaned against the entryway on shaky legs, as though his own weight was too much for them carry. His right hand was held up to his face, covering half of it from their view.
“Dead?” Lord Ivran repeated, wanting to know if Emeric had killed her.
“She fell from her balcony.” Emeric replied. He let out a small moan, as though he were in terrible pain and closed his visible eye.
Lord Ivran walked over to Protector Emeric and looked closely at his face. Through the gaps in Emeric’s fingers he could see that Emeric’s face had been severely burned. Blood drizzled from his charred flesh and dripped from his chin. Ivran could see the bloody fibers of muscle and the whites of bone.
“What happened to you?” He asked appalled.
“The Queen did this to me.” Emeric said in a half whisper. “She burned my face so I pushed her from her balcony. I assure you, my Lord; she deserved no better treatment than the punishment I dealt her.”
Lord Ivran nodded his head. “I believe you.” He remembered the disheartened look on Emeric’s face when he returned to camp after being the Queen’s prisoner and knew that poor Emeric did what any of them would have done.
Lord Ivran spun and pointed to the nearest man to him. He was a tall, lanky sort of man whose bones seemed to protrude through his skin. Though the top of his head was completely devoid of hair, he had grown a long, black beard that ended in a sort of spike just below his chest. Lord Ivran guessed that the man rubbed oil on the end of his beard to achieve such a look.
“You there!” He shouted and the man stood up tall. “What is your name?”
“I am Sorcerer Hemart Salemon, my Lord. From Hely.”
Lord Ivran was astounded at this news. The men surrounding Hemart looked to him with curiosity.
“I was unaware that Hely had joined us.” Lord Ivran said, rubbing his beard in confusion.
“Only a few of us have come to you, my Lord. When Lady Ivette heard your call for aid, she refused to send her soldiers and Protector Nicholaus would never dream of disobeying his Lady’s command- such is the way with Protectors.” Sorcerer Hemart smiled sheepishly at Lord Ivran, revealing a mouth full of blackened teeth. The man’s smile made Lord Ivran uneasy but he was glad that he had found a Sorcerer to help Emeric. Most Sorcerers had dabbled in the art of healing.
“Fine. Take Emeric to the Alchemist’s room and dress his wound and find a poultice for his pain.”
“And what shall I do if Derrick is in there?” He asked.
“Take these men with you,” he pointed to the few men standing around Hemart, “and have them detain Derrick. They can bring him back to me.”
Hemart nodded and turned to the men Ivran had pointed to, obviously the few he had brought with him from Hely, and gestured for them to follow. He approached Emeric, who had fallen to the floor in exhaustion, and gestured once again for his men to lift him. Lord Ivran stepped aside to give them room and watched in silence as they reached under Emeric’s arms and lifted him onto his feet. They held to him tightly as they escorted him from the great hall. Lord Ivran watched them go with a heavy heart. Emeric had already suffered so much and now his injury would undoubtedly bring him more pain. Lord Ivran’s worry for his friend, however, would have to wait- there were urgent matters to tend to.
Only two left then. Lord Ivran thought as he turned back to his men.
“There are two remaining who must be captured! Captain Mayvard…”
“Captain Mayvard is dead!” Lord Ivran looked around for the man who had spoken and found Lord Guyon stepping forth from the crowd. “My man, Gerrim Wentby,” he placed a hand upon the shoulder of a slender, young looking boy who stood next to him, “killed him with an arrow on the battlefield.” Lord Guyon smiled up at Lord Ivran with pride.
“Is this true?” Lord Ivran asked the boy.
“Tis true, my Lord.” He said with a smile wider than Lord Guyon’s.
“Then the lad is a hero!” Lord Ivran said loud enough for all to hear. “You will join us in our victory feast tonight.”
Gerrim nodded excitedly. “It would be an honor, my Lord.” With that, Lord Guyon wrapped his arm around the boy and pulled him back into the crowd.
Only one left. Lord Ivran scanned his men and smiled, hoping that when he called out the last name, someone from the crowd would announce her demise, just as they had with the others. But when he shouted the name ‘Rhada’ to them, not one of them spoke or stepped forward to claim to be her killer. In fact, Lord Ivran could not help but notice the uneasiness of their faces as he waited for someone to respond.
When it became obvious that no one had been successful in finding the High Protector, Lord Ivran cleared his throat and spoke as loudly as he possibly could.
“Has anyone seen her?” The silence that filled the room thickened.
Protector Josef stepped forward and knelt on one knee. “My Lord, there has been no sign of the High Protector. I’ve had men scouting through the castle for her. They looked upon the battlement where she was stationed and there was no sign of her- living or dead.” He looked up to Lord Ivran with regretful eyes and continued. “I ordered my men to check every corner of every room in this castle and she has not been fo
und.”
“Perhaps she fled.” Lord Doran piped in. His armor was smeared with blood and his sword, which he still held at the ready, was stained red. Lord Doran and his men had been the first to plunge into the fray when the fighting began.
“Perhaps.” Lord Ivran replied, stroking at his beard nervously. He did not like the thought that she could have fled. We may never find her.
“I want all of you men to spread out and search the castle again! Check every room and every crevice! Search the castle grounds and even the forest if need be! I want her found!” Lord Ivran was shouting in anger- not anger towards his men, but anger that he had not been able to capture the one person he so desperately desired to hold in his grasp.
When the room was cleared, Lord Onas was the only one who remained with Lord Ivran. They both walked to the nearest table and Lord Ivran practically fell into one of the wooden chairs with exhaustion. Lord Onas moved with more caution, not wanting to make his old bones ache. He sat in the chair next to Lord Ivran and placed the crown upon the table. He kept his eyes on it for a moment then turned them to Lord Ivran and stared at his head.
“Tis a mighty heavy crown. I am not certain your head is big enough to support it.” Lord Onas chuckled.
“Do you really have such little faith in me, old friend?” Lord Ivran asked. He could not help but feel hurt at Lord Onas’s jape and yet, something about what he said rang true. Tis a mighty heavy crown indeed!
“I have every faith in you.” Lord Onas replied as he reached down low and removed a small waterskin from his boot- the same waterskin Lord Ivran had drank from not so long ago.
“I believe I have a thirst.” He said with a smile. “Care to share that with me?”
Lord Onas took a long swig then handed over the waterskin. Lord Ivran took a hard swig as well. This time, he was not surprised at the contents. The spirit burned his throat as it traveled to his stomach, but something about the burn was satisfying.
“You will be a fine King.” Lord Onas replied after a moment of silence. “All I meant was that the crown seems to have a way of changing people.”
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 30