After a while, riding through a birch wood with some large old pines, and granite rocks scattered around like graves, they slowed to a trot, glancing around. Tirsa looked pensive.
‘What do you think? Did we shake them off?’ but Tirsa bit her lower lip as if she was not sure. There was a strange stir in the air.
‘I have this strange feeling I can’t place.’
Artride watched Tirsa on her right and studied her expression, which was almost unreadable.
‘Perhaps it is fear,’ she commented and observed her again; her head covered with her chain mail coif, a single string of wet hair withering in the wind, and her eyes big and darker green than Artride could remember. She felt melancholic just looking at her and a sudden sadness.
The air was thick with moisture and pushed heavily on Artride, who felt tired as well.
Suddenly the queen and her bodyguard felt a cold gust of wind blowing past them; it wavered along the huge pine trees towards some high prickly bushes.
If they had only looked in that direction; but it all happened so fast. Instantly an arrow whizzed and hit the black neck of Xaverius without so much of a sound. The horse reared up, pitching Artride backward. She barely managed to hold on to him, clutching at the reins. Xaverius let out a high terrifying scream, still staggering on his hind legs, then dropped slowly towards the floor when he felt himself weakening. He rolled his eyes, tossed his head and sank to the ground.
Tirsa jumped off her own horse and smacked her mount on the rear so she would run; after professionally grabbing her helmet, bow, arrows and shield from the saddlebag.
‘Take cover behind Xaverius!’ she shouted reaching over at Artride; glancing at the queen who tried to stop the bleeding of the poor animal with both her hands.
Tirsa noticed soon enough that the arrows did not try to hit the queen at all. They all shot past her in Tirsa’s direction alone. She jumped and steered away from Artride.
She kneeled down behind her shield; just big enough to cover her, with a swearing queen at her far right side. Tirsa had reached for her bow, and was loading, trying to figure out which way to shoot when suddenly the firing stopped.
At that moment, the head of the horse dropped motionless to the muddy floor. He had passed away. The two women exchanged upset glances as Artride tried to bite back her hot tears; she was too angry to cry.
The queen pulled a long dagger from one of her boots and got up angrily. Tirsa tried to stop her, reaching and pulling her sleeve, covering both of them with her shield. ‘No, don’t,’ and to the men, ‘Come on cowards, show your face!’ Tirsa yelped.
Not long after that, a man appeared from out of the undergrowth with a long bow in his hands. It was a tall man dressed in black and red; the colours of Razoras. Tirsa’s blood boiled at the sight of that, even though, of course, the war was long won.
‘Gradolf! You … you!’ But Artride seemed to be totally at a loss for words and could not get any more out than that. Tirsa was not worried for the queen, because she had told her they wouldn’t kill her for their own sake. However, Tirsa had to move further away from her though, for the man was clearly aiming at her.
‘Lower your bow, now!’ Artride ordered him seeing he aimed at Tirsa, but he ignored her.
‘You call me a coward, missy?’ the man spoke in a hoarse voice. ‘You are the one who flees from her country and lies to her people. You think we believe you are looking for a husband,’ and he glimpsed theatrically around. ‘Here in Dochas?’
She narrowed her eyes in anger and said with a thin, pressed mouth, ‘You of all people ought to know why I am here; seeing my father suffer for years. Where is your master, slave? I do not want to talk to a horse killer. And my name is Artride, Queen Artride, like I told you many times before.’
He took a few steps closer and she saw how old he had become in the two years she had not seen him. His hair was even greyer, his small beard looked thinner and his eyes sharper now he was close to victory, but just as vicious as ever. ‘Your king will show himself once we get rid of your precious little bodyguard, now … how shall I take her life; with this?’ he aimed his bolted bow. ‘Or this?’ And he turned his chin toward his long two-handed sword at his side.
‘Stop! You do nothing of that sort, and do not threaten us unless you want to start a war, and we all know how that ended last time. Stay right where you are or deal with me first, for I am not leaving her side.’ Glancing at Tirsa, their eyes met briefly before they disengaged again.
‘So all of a sudden you are her bodyguard?’ he scowled, his eyes resting on Tirsa whose tightly, bolted longbow was not letting him out of its sight.
‘You might as well be; she is of more value to Ceartas than you ever will be, missy.’
In a quick movement, Tirsa shot an arrow that pierced the ground just in front of his right foot.
‘Drop your weapons and no one will get hurt,’ she shouted at him, showing no fear of the old man. She strode towards him, away from Artride so she wouldn’t get hurt in error. His right arm, which held the armed bow, shook a little as he shot back and missed. They confronted each other, little more than twenty feet apart..
He is old, he is no match for me, finish him! But she never killed unless there was no other choice. The man drew and notched a second arrow, aimed and let fly. Tirsa jumped lightly to the side to avoid the arrow. She laughed, aimed and launched a second arrow. The arrow sang to its mark and he groaned in pain; reaching for his sword with his left hand he dropped the bow, but then … another arrow flew passed Tirsa and unexpectedly hit Gradolf in his chest, sending him staggering.
Tirsa turned in surprise to see the shooter, as did Artride; but then she heard another arrow flying past Artride, hitting Tirsa deeply in the middle of her chest, dangerously near her heart. She let go of her bow instantly from the force of the blow and glanced down at the arrow as she sunk to the floor with a thud. Mud sputtered up and smeared her back. As she struggled against the pain, rain sheeted into her open eyes and a dark stain spread rapidly across her wet surcoat, where the thick arrow was planted.
Artride watched this while the world seemed to stop spinning. Time itself just stopped.
From the corner of her eye she had seen it was Volmer who had shot the arrow. ‘No!’ she protested in a small voice, running towards the woman who was now stretched on her back on the grassy forest floor. She fell on her knees beside her. ‘No!’
But it was no use; she wasn’t breathing anymore and her helmeted head rested on the grass.
‘No! Don’t die, Tirsa … don’t …’ her voice cracked.
‘Too late for that, my dear,’ an uncomfortably calm voice behind her said. She pretended she did not hear, or maybe she really did not. She was too shocked to reason. Two hands tried to pull her away from her dead companion, but she refused to let that happen. She could not leave. She needed to see the life returning to those green eyes and hear that soft voice talking to her. She reached out to touch her with her bloodstained hands, both from her horse and the woman, but she missed.
She was dragged away like a doll. Hands were dragging her away. Her dream …
‘I didn’t know she meant that much to you, I am sorry for that,’ Volmer said grunting with effort, holding her by her waist. ‘But remember, I aimed for the heart, so she didn’t suffer.’ Now she did look at the man who was her uncle and she had a bitter taste in her mouth when she began, ‘What right …!’ She panted heavily. ‘What right did anyone give you to take her life?’
He raised one eyebrow and opened his mouth; but before he could respond, she shouted, ‘What right?’ and punched him everywhere she could, and he fell, too surprised by her behaviour and her punches to his ribs, backwards. She jumped on top of him and continued to slap him hard in the face. His nose and mouth started bleeding and he tried to grip her hands to stop her.
He had a hard time in doing so, however he finally succeeded and threw her off, holding her wrists tight. She did not calm down and kept struggl
ing, trying to kick him. He managed to raise his knife and placed its cool point on her wet throat. She calmed down a little, though still breathing heavily, eyes wide open.
‘I am sorry, my dear, but you left me no choice. I might not be allowed to take your useless life away unpunished; but the book doesn’t mention me taking your precious body as a crime.’ And she felt him caressing her throat with the tip of the knife down to her full breasts, his breath heavy with power and lust.
His broad face was pale, and his dark brown hair and moustache lay flat and stuck to his skull. He pulled her up with the knife closely set against her despairing face and tear stung eyes. Still staring in disbelief at the motionless body of Tirsa, her gaze wandered off to that of Counsellor Gradolf and she was suddenly reminded of something. She looked straight in Volmer’s eyes when she hissed, ‘You may get away with killing your own counsellor, but you killed my only bodyguard. Do you think the book will let you live on unpunished with that?’
He showed an ugly grin, way too self-content for Artride’s liking.
‘You are forgetting one thing, my future bride; we are not in Ceartas right now.’ Her heart seemed to stop when he said that. Why didn’t she think of that herself? The curse reached only as far as the boundaries of Ceartas; although criminals committing a crime in Ceartas would be persecuted, it did not mean that Ceartasians could not commit crimes outside of Ceartas, unpunished. However Artride remembered one important exception to the rule:
‘You will be punished when you return to claim my throne, because it’s not just anyone you killed; it is the queen’s bodyguard!’ she called out and tried to struggle free. His grip on her tightened as he pulled her closer.
‘Who says I will return?’ he smiled wickedly. ‘And who says you will?’
Artride shook her head. ‘What do you mean? I thought you wanted to marry me for my country?’ He gazed around and when he stared into her blue, tear stung eyes, again she saw a glimpse of remorse in his amber eyes. ‘We can’t return as you said wisely, so we will marry in Razoras; Morinthië, before the curse pulls you back.’
‘Why for pity’s sake?’ she yelped ignoring the knife.
‘You sound like Gradolf; he saw no good in it either. You see that is why I had to kill him. Only trouble he was, and for calling you ‘missy’, which you obviously never liked. You are after all … a lady.’ And he smiled viciously, undressing her with his eyes.
‘If you think I’m grateful, you’re wrong, you filthy beast!’ and she tried to wriggle her way out.
‘He said I would not succeed in getting your word. I think, however, you will, if you ever want to return to your sweet home.’ Volmer restrained her again, letting her feel the coldness of the blade.
Home? Do you think I feel at home back there? she thought wryly. Oh, you do not know me at all! But then she thought, Or does he? He knows I have to return to see justice done. People are suffering and dying in Ceartas and he knows I feel responsible enough to do something about it. That is why we started this journey. Tirsa and I.
Volmer added; seeing her bewildered gaze, trying to fight back the tears,
‘When I marry the Queen of Ceartas; even in Razoras, it will make me King of Ceartas by law and all the laws I broke will be forgiven. After our marriage I can enter Ceartas freely again and have the castle and the land. I have studied the book well when visiting brother dear.’
She remembered how many rights Royal men had according to the book and knew he spoke the truth. He would have more rights than her. She closed her eyes in defeat.
‘And why did you have to kill Tirsa, traitor?’ she blurted out furiously. He stroked her face with the cold steel of the blade and she flinched a little. ‘You have many names for me, my Lady, but you will come to call me Lord, in time.’ And he seemed to gather his mind. ‘What did you ask? Ah yes, the stout bodyguard, she was … in our way. I will protect you from now on.’
‘And who is going to protect me from you?’ she retorted loudly, raising her voice.
His grin disappeared. ‘Very funny, Artride. I suppose you do not have to like me. But you will marry me if you ever want to do something about the book, which I know you do.’
‘As if you care!’
She pointed at the dark woods in the west; the direction of where the sorceress was supposed to live. ‘My only hope,’ she sounded bitterly, ‘lies there!’ and then her gaze wandered over to Tirsa a few feet away. ‘And she was my only way of getting there.’ Tears hindered her view. It was odd, but the rain had stopped, now to be replaced by the queen’s royal tears. She did not care anymore if he noticed her crying.
‘You confuse me, why do you say that?’
‘She is … was special; she could have helped and now her brother …’ And she stared straight into his dull eyes. Her mouth quavered along with her voice. ‘And you, you … just took her life as you take the bodies of your helpless whores!’
‘Hold on there, love. No one is that special. I admit you mean a lot to me and not just to get hold of Ceartas, I see that now even more.’ And he sighed. ‘We can go together wherever you planned to go; if it makes you feel better.’ He waved with the knife in ignorance and at that instant she grabbed his wrist and kicked him hard in his crotch with her free foot, grabbing the knife. Volmer groaned with pain and fell to his knees, rolling himself into a ball.
She held the knife tightly in her right hand and pointed it firmly at him. He looked up with his face screwed in pain. ‘A real feminine way to treat a man, eh?’ he gasped.
‘Looks like you were there before, eh?’ she grinned with her eyes squeezed almost shut.
‘You don’t want to hurt me, you … cannot.’ His face still looked self-confident. She kicked him in his cheek with her boot to remove that dirty smile from his face and he fell sideways, blood splashing from where she’d struck him..
He tried to rub the blood away and left a dirty trail, but as she watched, she did not feel anything. Her body and soul was full of revenge and she liked it. Now she understood what Tirsa must have felt when she killed the murderer of her father. Is that what they call ‘sweet revenge’?
‘We are not in Ceartas, remember,’ she pointed out and spat on him, pacing around him, looking down. ‘You and your ways disgust me. Money and power is all you care about.’
‘Don’t tell me you don’t like that, Artride. You of all people are craving more, and together —’
‘Shut your face!’
He breathed heavily, but did not stop. ‘That’s your reason for wanting to get rid of the curse; your only true reason so you can make your own rules! To have control at last! But I understand –’ He tried to get up, but she kicked his weakened body to the forest floor again. She knew ways to disarm men; she had had lessons as well.
Her head was clear now and although her hands trembled, she felt incredibly numb.
‘Do not talk to me like you know me,’ she sounded icily.
In a rapid moment, she felt a hand grabbing her ankle and she was pulled off balance. Volmer was on top of her and trying to strangle her with his big hands; however, she was still holding the knife. Without thinking, she stabbed him firmly in the back, and his face turned red from anger and pain. The blade was not that long, nevertheless it did enough damage to loosen his grip a little. He tried to reach it, but she was quicker and pulled it out in one rapid movement, only to stab him fully in the belly this time.
His stare was full of disbelief when he looked at her and at the knife planted deeply in his gut. The blood started seeping out abundantly, and when he gazed up at her, his eyelids became weary.
‘Oops, it seems like I didn’t aim for the heart!’ she said cynically and slid from underneath him, trying to get away from his heavy body and the blood in disgust.
He opened his mouth to say something, but blood seeped out and his pupils turned small from pain. He reached for her but the next moment dropped dead to the floor. The only sound she heard was, ‘Punishhhhhhhhhh.’
&nb
sp; Hastily she got up, staring at the sky above her whispering, ‘Forgive me Father.’ And then left the scene to walk over to the lifeless body of Tirsa Lathabris.
CHAPTER 5
GONE
She is gone and my heart can bleed no more
I am as a shell with no living thing within
I am as one demented, lost in a shadowed world.
Celtic poem
She had never taken a life before; and in another situation she would have been appalled. But now, other than shaking uncontrollably, her feelings were overcome with grief and anger.
Drained, bloody and muddy, Artride fell down on her knees next to the motionless body of her companion. She looked asleep and at peace, stretched out on her back, but with her eyes wide-open and emerald green, like gems. But there was no one home anymore. Only the arrow sticking out of her chest looked out of place. Her broken chain mail hadn’t protected her at all. Tirsa lay in a pool of her own darkened blood.
It was wrong, all wrong.
She moved her shaky hand to touch the shaft, closing her fingers around the feathers, squeezing her eyes shut, and pulling it out with one quick pull. Without looking she fiercely threw it away.
When opening her eyes she stared at the bloody wound, which left her gasping for air. For a moment Artride thought Tirsa was still alive, because blood was running out slowly; but she quickly realised the blood was just leaving the body. She placed her hands on the wound, trying to cover it; trying to keep the blood inside in a vain attempt to still save her.
Tears rolled down her dirty cheeks when she realised it was futile. She stretched her hand out to remove the helmet and caressed her blond wet hair, remembering how the sun had shone on it and how the wind used to play with the loose strands.
The Queen's Curse Page 10