The Queen's Curse

by Hellenthal, Natasja

  ‘I love running,’ Artride added. ‘My energy can flow freely that way.’ And she took a deep breath of the thin air. ‘A sense of freedom I guess, well … and it keeps me focused. I even know some self-defence and sword handling.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I begged my father to have me trained.’

  ‘I see. And what about your healing abilities? Where did you learn that?’

  She looked away with an unadorned expression.

  ‘That’s another story.’ She paused.

  Tirsa waited for her to tell it, but nothing came. ‘Well?’

  She looked a little embarrassed. ‘Well, I am gifted with healing hands, born with it so to speak. I never had any lessons. I taught myself to master it.’

  ‘Pretty amazing.’

  Tirsa had heard about other people with the gift of healing; her own mother was a little gifted, but not as gifted as Artride, and she had been taught by someone in her younger years, unlike the queen.

  After some rest they decided to get going again. She removed her foot from the amulet lying motionless on the floor.

  ‘It is rather odd, would you not say?’ the queen considered, glancing around at the walls and the ceiling, which hadn’t changed much over the past hours, sliding a hand through her hair. Her braid had come loose again and it gave her a wild image, plus the fact that she was bare to the waist; only covered with her damp clothes still wrapped around her waist, hanging down to her bare legs. She still had the grace and dignity fit for a queen.

  ‘I mean … here we are in a cave. It is beautiful of course and special in its own way. However, not so dissimilar to any other cave I have visited back home. If you are the most powerful person on Talamh, let’s say Sempervirens is, then why choose a damp, cold, gloomy cave of all places to live?’

  ‘It’s remote, quiet; there are no people here to bother you. I’d say the perfect place to practice magic and hide yourself away, pretty well protected, better than most castles,’ Tirsa solemnly remarked. ‘It’s a maze in here!’

  ‘Hmm, true, but as a human being would you last long in here? Why not make it a little more comfortable?’ Artride retorted.

  ‘Let’s not compare ourselves with that sorceress, please. Who knows what goes on in her head?’

  ‘That is exactly what we must do, Tirs. To understand her, and perhaps to get near her, we must place ourselves inside her head. Just as she is doing to us … Why did she come here in the first place, and why this cave of all caves and stay as long as she has? And …’ Artride added with sparkling eyes, ‘why if you are able to do magic, why not cast an illusion on this cave and make it look different, prettier, warmer and so on? She is human after all.’

  ‘What is to say, she hasn’t? I mean perhaps we’re not there yet.’

  The moment Tirsa said that, they heard a loud thunderbolt or the crashing of a giant wave, they weren’t sure. As a result they dived for shelter and when they opened their eyes, a light so pure and white, like that inside of the magical cloud, poured into their very beings.

  Everything was white, where before everything was gloomy. The stalactites had disappeared and instead, long white curtains hung from the high ceiling. White silk-like curtains with golden threads, waved gently on a gentle surreal wind; the source of which was unknown, since there had been no wind before. Even the walls felt smooth and soft where before they had been rough and cold. The temperature had risen too, just like Artride had suggested.

  ‘A palace!’ Tirsa concluded with wide eyes and mouth. ‘Concealed as a cave.’

  It appeared they were indeed standing in a huge palace hall, magnificent and luscious and very white, which gave it a virgin appearance, but yet mysterious and ancient.

  Tirsa stared at her companion for a while, before daring to ask, ‘Did you make this happen?’

  ‘Did I ... what? I know you thought of me as divine, but you must be joking. I have a feeling I know who did this; she must have been listening again … I have no other explanation for it.’ Even their voices sounded smaller as happens in bigger places, unlike before. It was as if they were in a totally different location.

  They started walking around and forgot all about their guiding compass.

  The source for the white light was undetectable; it simply glowed all around them. The air had altered as well; it was fresher and even better scented, a faint rose scent hung all around.

  ‘Well, my compliments,’ Artride said, as she nodded, much in approval of the improvement.

  The hall was huge and they felt very small.

  Looking at the ceiling, Tirsa noticed for the first time a large object. It was flat, oval and shining, and hanging on two thin silky threads. It was slowly lowering down towards them, soundlessly.

  Very gently and smoothly the object came closer, as it was coming down from the white ceiling. It was about twice as tall as they were, and as wide as both of them.

  They soon recognized what it was: a mirror.

  But not an ordinary mirror; it was large and oval with very clean glass and a splendid golden frame, decorated with fine symbols; so tiny it was almost impossible for human eyes to make out. They only detected circles, tangled into each other; endless circles.

  With pounding hearts and anxious eyes they waited, for they knew something was bound to happen and all they could do was wait and watch.

  Watching themselves, for they had to. The mirror had come down right in front of them and it was big enough for the two of them. Standing closely together it of course reflected their image. At first they saw themselves as one would expect, and they both seized the opportunity to rearrange their hair somewhat, and checked themselves for cuts and bruises.

  ‘Thank heavens it’s us we are seeing and not some monster!’ Artride said nervously, glancing at Tirsa’s reflection. ‘Even if we do look like one, right now!’

  The blonde woman could not help but smile, consciously concealing her breasts by crossing her arms.

  ‘I wonder what the purpose of this might be.’ And Tirsa glanced at the thin threads holding the weight of the what must be heavy mirror.

  ‘Maybe it’s some sort of passage,’ she added and gently touched the beautiful mirror, but it was as solid as any normal mirror.

  After several minutes their reflection had not altered as they were expecting. But something else was to be spotted in the mirror, and both women saw it.

  Behind Artride’s left shoulder an image appeared out of thin air; it was the vague reflection of her father as she had known him. Standing next to him … her mother; whom she only recognized from a painting.

  Tirsa at the same time saw behind her own right shoulder, her dear Mabel, and beside her, her own father. Behind him stood an old man who she did not recognize. Behind their relatives other people were to be seen; people they did not know, but they all smiled at them in a most friendly manner.

  Artride stood motionless, staring at all those people in the mirror, and in spite of feeling fear she felt somehow glad.

  ‘Do you see what I see?’ The queen asked Tirsa gingerly. Crossing glances it was obvious she did. ‘Why are we seeing our loved ones?’ The queen shook her head, staring at her mother. The reflections didn’t open their mouths, but just smiled and looked at them full of love.

  After a short moment Artride dared to ask who that lady behind Tirsa’s right shoulder was; the one the soldier had been staring at with remorse and sadness in her eyes. It was like being on the other side all over again. To be reminded only confused her. But then again this was the doing of the sorceress and she would not be shaken again that easily.

  She bit her lip at first, wrapping her arms around herself tighter for comfort, before answering, looking Mabel straight in the eyes, ‘That’s Mabel, my dearest friend and lover.’

  Tirsa was aware that she was finally, ready to talk about her and let her go.

  Artride’s mouth fell open and all she could think of was, A woman? I knew it! She is not the type to be with a man
. She is like me! And she too stared at Mabel, who nodded politely at the Queen. Artride almost blushed.

  ‘She is … very pretty.’

  ‘She was,’ Tirsa corrected her with a smile and a tear in the corner of her eye.

  ‘And so young …’ Artride concluded.

  ‘Too young to die,’ was all Tirsa said, sighing.

  ‘I am sorry, Tirsa.’ And Artride remembered Barkor’s words all too well; that the commander had been devastated after the death of her lover. Barkor had not known it was a woman either, or perhaps had not wanted to mention it; afraid of the consequence for her.

  ‘Don’t be. You could not prevent her from dying, not even I could,’ Tirsa bitterly replied.

  ‘Oh, but I am most sorry, not only for your loss, Tirsa. But also for your pain and grief, and for the madness we have put you through. In a way I am responsible for our ruling. Nobody was meant to die young!’

  Tirsa dropped her head at Artride’s words, her thoughts miles away.

  ‘I have never been in a war, but I, like my father–’ and Artride stared at his reflection, ‘have signed papers to order violence to prevent Ceartas from being captured. The Royal army, which of course includes your company will see to this well … any threat we could not communicate with any longer. Any county or country undermining Ceartas’ authority. Now thinking back perhaps I should have let Ceartas be captured; just to see what would happen with the book and its curse. Perhaps to find out we need not even worry about the taking of the castle and the land, apart from major casualties and deaths, possibly my own. The curse might punish the invaders with death just as it does with us?’ And she sighed.

  ‘But I never dared to risk that for it is not mentioned in the book. It is after all a Law Book and meant only for Ceartasians. You, as a knight, had to serve your country, had to battle while I was safe in my tower. You must have seen horrible things; I cannot even begin to imagine.’

  It was silent for a moment and all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing.

  ‘Many people die every day in battle,’ Tirsa replied, calmly staring at the queen’s reflection.

  ‘Violence … when words don’t work anymore and defending ones country and its people. Soldiers fight for that, for freedom and honour and all know it is likely that they will die in doing so. Everyone has their task. You, yourself, fight a different battle than we knights do.’

  ‘So she … Mabel was a knight as well?’ Artride asked but already knew the answer.

  ‘We fought side by side in the fifth company. We both had the same ideas about many things. Both were naturalists and we had many plans … I knew her about three years before the war with the Umbraris started.’ Tirsa noticed for the first time she did not feel the same pain anymore when she talked about her. It seemed easier, lighter.

  ‘Two years ago,’ Artride added, remembering, even though she was still a princess, she had seen her father worried and absent-minded, for a change, his mind away from the book. ‘They left a trail of destruction in Ceartas, killed many Ceartasians, destroyed many settlements. We had to stop them as they were on their way to Satrea and Tarac. They held on long, for they were barbaric, but technically we were better trained and equipped. We formed a line of archers, shields and swords.’ Her eyes shone while she spoke, not seeing the queen any more. But the queen never stopped looking at Tirsa’s reflection.

  ‘We were aware of the risks; death was always present. But the ironic part was …’ and Tirsa swallowed a lump away in her throat, whispering, ‘this was going to be our last battle together. We had made plans to leave the army; move south and settle down.’ And she shook her head and glanced at the reflection of Mabel in the mirror, that was still there.

  ‘We thought ourselves to be immortal, for we always came clean out of battle, apart from a few cuts and bruises. But this time, this time …’ she felt the lump in her throat again.

  Artride laid a comforting hand on her bare back. Tirsa again saw the image she had seen so many times after that moment printed on her mind; appearing both during the day and in sleepless nights; the enemy who had run through their weakening shields. Like warrior ants they came slashing quickly and with effect. With mean two-handed swords and heavy axes stained with blood, cutting and swaying; killing dozens of Ceartasian soldiers; mostly men and a few women. The bodies, still screaming and crawling with pain, piled up before Mabel and Tirsa, the ground wet with their blood. The Umbrarian soldiers coming closer towards the two of them; the sword fighters, they stood back to back, while the enemy was closing in on them until a one-to-one fight for both of them began. They were not able to help each other anymore. It was each to their own. One after the other the two women slashed down a number of mad soldiers; like annoying wasps. They were well trained, but …

  ‘So many … too many,’ Tirsa murmured.

  Blood splashed about and smeared their faces and clothes and their limbs grew heavy and tired. ‘Their shouting was awful.’ And she saw the number of their army lessening. Many a friend she had lost in that war and even to this day she saw the faces of the men she had killed; however, the image of her Mabel being slashed down would forever be the most shocking of all, and one that would remain with her forever. The repeating scene of many a nightmare ever since. All the nice memories she had of her couldn’t prevail over that one awful memory.

  ‘I saw Mabel falling down with that beast on top of her. I managed to take his life, but I was too late to save her … covered in blood she died a slow and painful death in my arms.’

  The days after her passing were painted in shades of grey and black. Not even their victory, the joy of the people, her medal and promotion could cheer her up. Mabel was gone forever, and she felt she had died with her that day and for long wanted to. But something always kept her from taking her own life. Now she knew it had been Mabel all along and now she knew why; she needed to live to safe her brother Elimar? And she would succeed; it was her sole purpose in life, all that remained for her to do.

  Until she saw Mabel again on the Other Side, she had known no real pleasure or joy. The journey with the queen had made her feel things again she thought she had lost for good. The queen; even without their quest she would have fallen for her.

  ‘There is nothing to say to take away your pain,’ Artride said. ‘Only that my heart goes out to you,’ she almost whispered.

  ‘I don’t think I will ever get over her,’ Tirsa whimpered, her eyes filling and tears flowing in abundance; at last her walls were tumbling down, and Artride opened her arms for her and held her close.

  ‘That is impossible if you have loved someone greatly. So much you lose yourself.’

  She must have been great. Was all Artride could think of.

  ‘You would have liked her. And she you.’ Tirsa cried as if she’d read her mind.

  And when her tears had flown, she sniffed and said, ‘Many times I have been wounded, but nothing hurts more than a love that is lost.’

  Artride stared at Mabel and said in a perspicacious voice, ‘Why not try to focus and hold on to the happy days together, instead of that terrible day you lost her?’

  Tirsa stared at her and smiled. A look of gratitude and understanding brightened her eyes.

  ‘I never thought of it that way, but yes Mabel said something similar.’ And she had an urge to embrace Artride, but held back. Instead she thanked her from the bottom of her heart.

  They had been standing in front of the mirror in the middle of the great white hall and all had been quiet around them.

  ‘I imagine they are our guardian angels now,’ Artride concluded solemnly. ‘They are all gone from us, but perhaps this mirror tells us they are still with us, looking after us, from a different place, perhaps only separated by something as thin as this; a mirror.’

  Tirsa looked at her, amazed. ‘I think you are right.’

  The queen smiled back at her. ‘It is a hopeful thought.’

  Footsteps were to be heard in the distan
ce and both of them froze in anxiety. Would it be her? Would they finally meet the Queen of Dochas; the mysterious sorceress Sempervirens?

  But no; two young men in white emerged from the distance, marching towards them in a straight line. Looking around, the women saw that there was no escape. The white walls had closed in on them; there wasn’t even a way back. Why had they allowed themselves to lower their guard? The mirror had been a distraction.

  The men both had green skins, but paler than Tirsa remembered a Woodchild to be. No small wonder when they were kept inside, and never got to walk in the sunlight and fresh air, which darkened their skin.

  ‘Woodchildren, Artride, both of them.’

  ‘What … some of the abducted ones?’

  ‘Must be. I’ll reason with them.’ Tirsa said.

  The men halted right in front of them; both were dressed in a tight white outfit, their dark brown medium length hair, neatly combed. They stared past Artride and Tirsa as if not really seeing them. They carried no weapons, but they behaved just like guards.

  Before they realized what had happened one of the men grabbed Artride by the arm and lured her with him roughly; back to where he had come from. Tirsa was dragged after her, loudly objecting to the rude treatment and asking questions. But, as expected, no answer came from the guards, and Tirsa, much to her disapproval, was taken to the right, into a different hallway than the queen.

  ‘Wait, no! You can’t do that! You have to take both of us to her!’

  ‘Tirsa?!’ The queen’s voice was full of fright. But as much as both of them tried to fight off their guards, it was of no use. It was as if they were made of steel and they showed no pain or emotion at the hits and kicks the women gave them. It only made their grip tighten and more painful, so Artride gave up fighting soon. Only to follow them and see where they would take her.

  Tirsa on the other hand was fierce, and had no intention of being parted from the queen she had vowed to protect at all times. She kicked and used every technique she knew to break away. And she used every ounce of energy that she still possessed, and that wasn’t much to her dismay. In any case they were too strong for her. The last thing she saw was the back of the queen disappear behind one of the white curtains hanging from the ceiling, while she herself was being lifted from the floor tightly by her waist, and thrown over the guards shoulder; and carried in the opposite direction behind yet another curtain.