by Reza Ali
“My Lady, I was worried to sickness about your well-being. Where did you disappear? I rode the town in my armour with a helmet to conceal my identity, hoping to find you. I could not think of anything but you. All I wanted was to see those beautiful eyes again.” He pulled her into his arms.
She held onto him tightly. He craned his head to face her and kissed her gently. The coarse hair of his cropped beard brushed against her skin, the same feeling her favourite fur coat provided when it fought the freezing winter breeze.
“When you left me on your last visit, four riders appeared minutes after. They asked that I accompany them to a nearby location where you would rendezvous with me. When we arrived at the location, they surrounded me and drew their swords. They called me a witch and accused me of seducing you.” She paused.
“What happened? Did they hurt you? If they laid one finger on you, I will kill them all with my bare hands!” His lips twisted in anger.
“There is no need, My Prince; I did it. I tore them to pieces; something within me surfaced, something I could not control. I ripped them apart and took their blood. I could not be controlled; we should not have pursued this path.” She wore a forlorn look.
“They tried to kill you! You had to kill them or they would have killed you. Why did I not hear of any such death in the last days?” He scratched his head in thought.
“Someone betrays you! They wanted to kill me so that you can wed Princess Catherine, as you are bestowed to her. A promise that you are bound by your honour to fulfil.” She looked him in the eyes as she spoke.
“Damn it, no! I will not walk away from the only woman I love, not because of some stupid promise by my late king father.” His face turned purple as he shouted in frustration.
“I am afraid, My Prince; afraid of what I will do to you. I will ruin you. They already call me witch; how long before that spreads to your entire nation? They will never let us have peace and God forbid they ever provoke me to unleash the monster I have inside. I am not meant to be with a human, let alone a future king human. That is the way it has to be.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
“No, I will not allow them that. They will not take you away from me. Nobody can do that. I do not need to be their king. I can pass it up. I have a little brother. He can marry Princess Catherine. I do not care for this throne, or those damn fake bastards. I hate them all.” His voice reeked of vitriol.
“My Prince, you are on the cusp of legendary greatness. This is not just something to throw away because you love some woman you cannot be with. I do love you; I do want to be with you, but we will have nothing but strife. You must accept your birth right; accept the honour that has been bestowed on you. Kingship is not to be taken lightly. You have to put aside everything for this.” Her eyes were wide open, pleading with him.
“No, I cannot leave you. Please, Eve, tell me what to do. Please do not walk away from me. I will do anything to keep you with me. Please tell me what to do. I cannot lose you. Please, Eve, please! Just tell me what you want; tell me and I will do it.” He burst into tears as he spoke.
She held onto him tightly. She wanted so much to tell him to stop crying, that everything would be well, that she would do anything to be with him and that they would be together against the odds. She knew it could never happen, not with her pregnant and facing death at childbirth. She knew the chorus branding her a witch would increase as the prospect of her being queen would have loomed. It was obvious; their love was impossible, doomed to terrible tragedy.
“I am sorry, My Prince; this is the only way. You must do what you are destined to do. I do not belong here. As long as we are together, there always be turmoil.” She resolved to be strong.
“I cannot bear to imagine the best woman I have ever met will leave me. How can I bear this hurt? Please do not do this to me. Please, Eve!”
“I am with child. Your son, My Prince!” She smiled through her tears.
“My son. I… I… This cannot be. I must be with my son and his mother. That is the way–”
“No! We must stop arguing now. Forgive me, My Prince, but I must retire. I am tired from a day of great physical exertion.” She kissed him one last time and walked away.
He sank to his knees, crying as she walked away.
“Wait, Eve, wait! Please tell me what to do! Do not leave me! Tell me what to do; I will do anything! I cannot lose you. I love you!” He was on his knees, imploring her, but she continued walking away.
Her face was drenched in tears and her heart sank beyond any depth previously known to her. Every part of her wanted to embrace him, to love him and make his words a reality. She knew that was a bridge she could not cross. She clutched onto her resolve with all the strength she possessed; she was never going to let go. As difficult as this was, she had to do it, so she continued walking.
* * *
That night, Princess Evangeline lay on her bed, her head resting upon her soft feather pillow, wet with her tears. Her time was no longer vast; her choices were limited. I wonder how it will be when I die. Will there be much pain or suffering? Who will care for my baby? She knew she needed to make plans; if she could not survive labour, she needed to ensure that her son would be protected and cared for. She realised that, if the Valkrays knew who he was, they would kill him brutally. She was not going to allow that, not after the sacrifices she had made to give him life. She felt a sudden excitement pulse through her at the thought of her ‘beautiful son’, as Charlotte Grift had described him. He is going to be an extraordinary human being. He is my son and he will have all of my compassion. She smiled through her tears.
She heard a slight tapping on her door. She got up and tiptoed to open it. Standing outside the door was John Carter.
“Princess, forgive me if I woke you.” His smile could warm even the coldest heart in the dead of winter.
“John, what a surprise! You did not wake me; I could not sleep.” She smiled back.
“I need to tell you something; would you be willing to allow me some minutes?” He seemed nervous.
“Certainly, John, you never have to ask permission for my time. I am always available to talk to you,” she replied, inviting him inside.
“I heard about you and Prince Henry and I admire your bravery to end the relationship. I hope you are not feeling alone in this world after that. It–”
“I ended the relationship because of reasons that would never allow it to prosper. I know that path would be full of difficulty; those men who meant to kill me proved that to me. We had not even begun a real relationship and already such terrible things happened. The relationship would always be doomed.”
“Princess, what I meant to say to you is that, well, you do not ever have to feel alone, because I am here for you. I could not tell you this before, but… I had a talk with Lord Cunningham and he asked me in anger what kind of man I am to just watch you start a relationship with the prince and not say anything.”
“Why would you need to say anything to me about my relationship, John?”
Her tone was forthright – John felt nervousness creep over him.
“Because I am in love with you, My Princess. I have always loved you. I am nothing in title, but my heart has always been beating only for you. If you tell me to leave your service after you’ve heard these words, I would do it without question. I had to tell you this; forgive me.”
John Carter had always held a certain appeal to the princess – he was tall, with beautiful golden hair and grey eyes, strikingly handsome. He was quite a swordsman too, a former knight before he was turned. She had always liked him; secretly, her teenage dreams often had him as her star-crossed lover. She had never once suspected that he felt this way. It was another surprising development, as if the princess had not been burdened enough with surprising developments.
“John, why did you never say anything about this before?” She looked deep into his grey eyes.
“I was afraid, afraid of what you would think of me. I only ever wanted the
best for you. I thought my chance had gone when you and the prince fell in love. I was surprised that you fell for him, although not that he fell for you. Men are so attracted to your beauty; I have seen it many times with my own eyes.” He placed his hand on her face.
She felt a tingle in her belly; she knew what it meant. It was easy to fall for John Carter – he was the kindest man she had ever known, and also the most attractive she had met, and his manners were always impeccable; he was the perfect man. Even so, she could not consider another relationship at that moment, with all the turmoil in her life. She did love the prince and it took all of her to walk away. She wondered if John knew she was pregnant. Surely that would change things for him.
“John, are you aware that I am with child?” she asked gently.
“I am not aware, My Princess. The prince is the father?” His head lowered and a sense of disappointment seemed to wash over him.
“It is true, the prince fathers my child. This upsets you?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes, My Princess; your life is in peril. That is not something I can receive with any joy. What are we going to do about that?” He looked up at her with his large grey eyes.
“What are we going to do? So it is now ‘we’?” She felt the despair ease within her and a real smile embellished her face.
“I will be with you no matter what. If you think that there could be a chance for us, I will wait for you even if it never happens. I would rather spend my days beside the woman who has my heart than watching you from afar, wishing that your beautiful turquoise eyes would find solace in this face.” He took her hand and placed it on his cheek.
“If you had spoken of your feelings earlier, things might not have been this way. But you did not! Please just give me some time; so much has happened these last days. I am confused – I want to have my baby no matter what will happen to me. Madame Cecelia told me of a druid who lives in the Spiritual Forest. She thought he could help me to survive the dreaded childbirth.”
“We shall go to him, then. I will not stand by and allow your life to be at risk. I will always be with you, as long as you want me to!” He pulled her into his arms.
She felt safe again. Life has proven to hold so many surprises.
Chapter 7
The Druid
John Carter dismounted and walked to the methuselah tree. The huge trunk, a combination of twisted branches strung together like a million mating pythons, loomed over them. Gnarled fibrous roots sprouted from the ground, like the humped backs of large sea monsters, covering more than one hundred feet around the tree. Madame Cecelia walked up to a thick sprawled root and knelt. She ran her fingers over the bark until they sank into a small crevasse. She pushed her hand inside and pulled on a string of stems she had found. The large intertwined roots shifted, revealing an opening leading underground.
“Come, Princess Eve, this way.” Cecelia extended her arm.
John Carter went first, pushing his body inside and shifting his boots around, probing for traction. He felt his boot nest against something long and hard, strong enough to give him a firm hold. He slowly pushed lower and found another foothold, and still further below there was another and another; it was a stairway built against the wall of the opening.
“Come, Princess Eve, I will guide from below!” he shouted, giving her comfort that it was safe to descend inside.
John’s boot blindly groped at anything below him; it was impossibly dark and he knew nothing of where he was descending to. He felt his boot land on flat ground after thirty minutes of descent. As he came down, he noticed the wall at the other side had given way, creating an underground walkway. He helped the princess and Cecelia down. Cecelia picked up a thin branch from the floor and removed a vial of brightly coloured liquid from the pouch she had strung around her shoulder. She poured the substance over the branch and recited some words in a strange tongue, and the branch caught alight and burnt with an orange intensity.
The cave was a vast tangle of gnarled roots, ensnaring the walkway all around from wall to floor. John led the way, holding the channel of roots above him as he pushed forward. The princess and Cecelia followed him, also leaning their weight on the overhead track of roots. It proved a difficult terrain; the princess’ cloak caught the spires of sprouting root caps incessantly, pulling around her neck and almost choking her. Cecelia held the glowing bark in one hand and the track of roots in the other as she advanced through the seemingly endless maze of twisted wood.
Before long, the dim orange glow caught something ahead. Cecelia squinted through the melee of upward-sprouting root trails, where she saw the white-bearded face of a man.
“He is inside the main root system,” she said, pointing at the vertically climbing roots.
They stood before him, looking through the tangle of roots at the remarkable visage of an old man whose body was seamlessly interwoven into the system of roots. His eyes were firmly shut and his human body sat only half recognisable; the other half seemed a metamorphic convergence of human flesh and woody root stems.
John leant forward until his chin touched a lateral shoot and called out loudly, “Excuse me, sir!”
“You have to call his name to wake him,” Cecelia said softly.
“This thing has a name? Who on earth would have named him?” John replied in surprise.
“He was a normal human just like you used to be, John. That was around ten thousand years ago, until he became a real immortal. His soul had merged with the tree and he became the all-seeing eyes of the realm. These roots thrust deep into the very soul of nature, revealing to him everything about the origins,” Cecelia informed.
She moved towards the system of climbing roots and pushed her face as far in as she could until it was as close as she could possibly get to the old man.
“Armoran, I summon thee to wake. I seek knowledge that resides in your custodianship.” Her voice was firm and perceptible.
The bearded man remained in deep slumber, his eyes completely shut and unmoved.
“Are you sure we can converse with him?” the princess asked, her eyes fixed in fascination.
“Yes, Princess Eve. That is the way to wake him.” Cecelia lifted her eyes to the princess, then returned them to a scroll she carefully studied.
“I cannot decipher if he is breathing or just lifeless!” John’s forehead creased as he examined the man through his vision.
This time, her voice bellowed through the cave. “Armoran, I summon thee to awaken now. We seek your wisdom; we seek your all-encompassing eye; we seek your sage counsel.”
The bearded man’s eyes flew open; they glowed as bright as the sun, then reflected an illuminous blue.
“Who dares speak my name and summon my spirit to this vessel?” His voice was deep and rang hollow through the cave.
“It is I, Evangeline Brooking, who seeks your counsel,” the princess replied softly.
“And I, Madame Cecelia Elegua. A thrall of Lord of Dark,” Cecelia said confidently.
“Brooking, I know your lineage. Your forbears sought my counsel for many years,” Armoran said in his deep voice.
“I humbly seek your encompassing eye now, oh great Armoran.” The princess spoke with reverence.
“Around five thousand years ago, an ancestor of Brooking lineage sought my confirmation; he claimed to be the chosen warrior of the dark, the Dark Prince. Nathaniel Brooking was his name, a man of great self-belief, but little in the way of wisdom. How he came to make such an assertion was beyond my vast mind’s comprehension. He was a delusional man, almost destroying my roots when I gave him the verdict. Some years later, another Brooking descendant claimed the exact same thing. He was just as delusional as his predecessor, but far more accepting of the verdict. A peculiar circumstance, this one; two men of the same lineage acquiring the same misguided belief. It was to be cause of death for both.” His voice was soft and cracked between words.
The princess looked at Cecelia, bearing a slight frown.
“Our Princess Evangeline comes to you with a similar dilemma,” Cecelia said hesitantly.
“Similar?” His eyes turned towards the princess.
“I am with child; a boy, I am told. A boy with an extraordinary destiny; he is to be the Dark Prince,” she answered firmly.
“I should have known, as I heard your maiden name, Brooking. You all have the same delusion; it is extraordinary how you come through generations. I am–”
“This is no delusion. I am certain of this destiny!” Princess Evangeline snapped, her face reddened with anger.
“What gives you certainty? I know of nothing that can authentically confirm such an assertion!”
“I had visions of the Dark Prince; it haunted my dreams for many years,” she began.
“Visions mean nothing but a mind that plays far too much.”
“I was visited by a woman in my dreams; she had long white hair and blue eyes and wore a white robe. I am certain that this woman was real. She knew things. She was–”
“Did the woman supply you with her name?” His interested was stoked, but ever so slightly.
“Yes, her name was Charlotte Grift.” Her reply was instant and she noticed his change in demeanour.
“Are you certain of that name?” His voice was firm, as was his interest.
“I am absolutely certain.”
“Charlotte Grift is one of her many names. She has many others: Aphrodite, Morrigan, Nephthys, Cerridwen and many more. She is as close as one can get to the ultimate creator. I have only ever caught sight of her once. I had heard her enter the realm and I rode with a crow to find her. I saw her as she ascended, and she saw me, but showed no interest. What did she speak of?”
“She told me that I must not fear the fate that awaits, that I am a special child of god and that my son will be the Dark Prince.”
“Such words have never been spoken to a living soul. You are fortunate in many ways. There is something about you and I want to see it for myself. Place your hand in my roots.”