Myths & Magic: A Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection

by Kerry Adrienne

  London was hazy in the distance as they came upon it late on a muggy afternoon. Sophia’s mouth dropped open because she had never seen anything like it. They were still a few miles away but the enormous village sprawled like an angry beast across the entire countryside. A stifling cloud hovered over it as if a storm were brewing. London was so large and looming, bustling with activity, Sophia feared to go any closer.

  “Why do you stop, Sister?” Marcus asked.

  “I…I don’t want to…”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you…and so will Father.”

  She took no comfort in her brother’s words. Reluctantly, she let her pony proceed. Her brother smiled pitilessly and shook his head.

  “I forget that you’ve never been outside of Northumberland, poor thing. This must all seem rather amazing, yes?”

  More sadness pricked at her heart over the loss of innocence her brother had suffered at the hand of her father.

  “Yes,” Sophia echoed even though ‘amazing’ wasn’t a word she would have chosen to explain the feelings churning inside her.

  “Just stay close.”

  What choice did she have? she mused dejectedly.

  As they rode into the labyrinth called London, Sophia gaped in a mixture of awe and horror having never seen so many people crammed into one place. She never knew there were this many souls in the world.

  Movement drew her eyes up to the rooftops where people were dumping buckets of filth out of windows. The stench was so bad she almost turned out the contents of her stomach on several occasions. With so many peasants living in squalor, she wondered why Father would even risk taking them into such a place.

  As the riding party got closer to the castle, the villagers gradually appeared tidier and well dressed, the houses and shops, much cleaner, and the structures taller. It was all quite a spectacle. Sophia found she couldn’t stop staring at everything around her with wide eyes. Even though the living conditions had improved, she still could not get used to the grotesque odor of the place.

  When Sophia was finally shown to her quarters within the castle, she was completely exhausted and fell into bed, sleep overtaking her faster than usual.

  She arose the next day to a room full of sunlight and heralding trumpets. Going to the window, she peered out, curious to see this city during daylight. Large crowds of people were already lining the streets below and crammed up to the castle gate. With her gaze following the road out into the distance, she noticed the king’s procession approaching.

  Alongside the king’s coach, several of his men walked and some rode horses. Most striking about the whole affair—but in a somber sort of way—was that every man and every horse wore black. No one cheered as the procession approached the gates, reminding her of the dark event this day signified. Even the sky seemed to be mourning the loss of so many souls, and Sophia’s sense of grief made her throat constrict.

  Just as she was about to get dressed, a knock sounded at her door. Upon opening it, Sophia blinked when a woman rushed inside saying a bit curtly, “My name is Constance, and I am your lady’s maid. We must make you presentable.”

  The woman then went right for her trunk and swung it open. With a look of pure disgust upon her face, she lifted Sophia’s black gown, quite wrinkled from travel, and said, “This will never do.”

  Without giving Sophia a chance even to respond, Constance took the dress and left. Deciding to stay in her nightshift, Sophia assumed the woman had gone to find something else in the proper size, and so she sat down on the edge of the mattress to wait.

  Returning with another black dress of a better quality, Constance proceeded to clothe Sophia in the many layers proper ladies wore at court when not living in a convent. Constance was a very quiet person, Sophia mused to herself as the woman plaited her hair. Once finished, the somber lady’s maid led her through the corridors, which were oddly deserted. After making several twists and turns Sophia began to smell food cooking, which made her stomach rumble.

  Eventually, they came to a great hall with black banners draped on the walls and long tables stretching the length of the space for hundreds of guests. Servants were bustling about with trays of food and drink. Sophia’s mouth watered at the sights and smells surrounding her.

  Before she was able to start searching for Father and Marcus, a man said, “Lady Gall, what an unexpected surprise.”

  Turning, Sophia found Henry de Percy grinning at her.

  She promptly dipped into a curtsy and offered up a forced greeting, as she wasn’t exactly happy to see him. “Lord Percy. What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Please, my lady, do call me Henry. I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

  “No…I was just…well, it was just unexpected is all. Weren’t you fighting with the King in France?”

  “I traveled ahead of the procession.”

  Sophia forced a polite smile even though his comment didn’t make much sense to her. How was it possible to travel from France faster than the others? An awkward silence stretched out between them, and to banish it, she said, “I’ve never seen so many people in my life.”

  “I am in agreement, my lady, I long to return to the quiet of Northumberland.”

  “I doubt Alnwick is as quiet as Holy Island.”

  “Ah yes, and how are the Brothers and Sisters of Lindisfarne these days? Still penitent, I presume? They’re not rubbing off on you are they, my dear lady, for it would be a shame to tame that wild streak I can see within you,” Sir Percy said with a wink.

  “Wild streak, my lord?” That didn’t sound very ladylike, and his phrasing made her feel uncomfortable.

  “Yes, you appeal to the very nature of beasts, do you not? Creatures of all kinds are drawn to you, naturally, or as I’ve heard.”

  “Beasts of nature? You’ve heard this, my lord...from whom, may I ask?” Sophia asked, thinking that comment was even stranger than the last. Words like ‘beast’ made her think of monsters, and she was honestly struggling to keep the smile on her face from faltering.

  “I have a wild streak as well, my lady,” he said instead of explaining who was telling him such things.

  Sophia suddenly felt smothered and longed, almost frantically, for some fresh air.

  Just as she was seeking an escape, doors at the far end of the hall burst open, and the other knights started to flood into the chamber.

  “Shall we?” Sir Percy said, indicating the tables.

  “Forgive me, Lord—or, uh...Henry, I should probably find my father and brother. They will be looking for me.”

  “Of course, my lady. And I will look forward to continuing our conversation.”

  He bowed, and Sophia curtsied, thinking she wasn’t looking forward to any such thing. She presented one last forced smile and took her leave in a hurry, searching for Beon’s head of dark hair. When she didn’t see him, she next sought Sir Lyndon, as he was a head taller than most and would be easier to recognize.

  When neither one of them could be found, the panic within her at their absence intensified until her head was whirling, and she felt a little dizzy. As any and all remaining air from the chamber vanished—escape became the only thing she could think about while struggling to fill her lungs.

  Sophia rushed through the closest doorway, entering a large corridor, and she paused unsure of which way would take her to the gardens. Spotting a servant, she asked to know the fastest way out. When Sophia finally made it to a wide balcony overlooking a courtyard near the stables, she bent forward and sucked in big gulps of air.

  She still felt breathless and knew she was fast approaching a full panic as thoughts of Beon being one of the fallen filled her mind. Letting her tears begin to fall, she braced herself against the parapet, fearing she might collapse at any moment.

  As she was looking out across the courtyard below, she thought she saw someone resembling her brother, Marcel, emerge from the stables. Then a tall, man with long dark hair came into view. Beon? she thought but couldn’t seem to find
enough air to call out his name. With her vision blurred as it was, she couldn’t be certain and worried she was imagining what she wanted to see.

  Sophia dropped her head and closed her eyes, trying to clear her head as well as her vision. She drew air in slowly through her nose and then blew it out through her mouth. When she opened her eyes again, her focus fell on a large shrub in the shape of a bird and the tears returned. Desperate to get a better look, she looked for a way down to the courtyard and saw a staircase to her left. Rushing to it on wobbly legs, she hoped she could make it to the bottom before fainting.

  While gripping the banister tightly, Sophia finally reached the garden and ran toward the bush. Once there, she blinked up in wonder. This was for real, wasn’t it? Had Beon really so boldly carved away at one of the hedges at the king’s court? Doing so at the monastery had been incredibly bold of him, but here seemed even more so. Was this simply a magical coincidence?

  When it all became too much for her, and she felt black closing in around her, she knew she was falling to the ground, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. Someone called out her name as she lost her grip on consciousness.

  Chapter 13

  When Birds Aren’t Allowed to Fly

  Having caught her as she fell, Beon carried Sophia through the hallways as a servant lead them to her quarters. Marcel ran ahead to fetch Lord Gall. Once they reached her chambers, Beon gently laid her on the bed. He went to the basin, doused a linen, and wrung out the excess water. Sitting down beside her, he laid the cool cloth on her forehead and stroked her cheek.

  So beautiful, like a sleeping angel, he thought. Sable tresses framed her heart shaped face. Beon was reminded of how she resembled the innocent cherubs depicted in the tapestries at Bamborough Castle, the only cheerful things to be found in the entire cold structure, aside from Sophia herself...at a time when they’d both been younger, innocent and not tainted by the realities of life. Parts of him wanted to return to that time of simplicity when the most pressing matters they worried about were mapping out the hidden passageways and running along the beach as the sea rolled over their bare feet.

  Beon knew, however, that such thoughts were not practical or realistic, so he instead imagined the future he wanted, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted that future to be with Sophia and no one else.

  With her cheeks so flushed with color, Beon believed she’d simply become overheated, and hoped she’d wake up soon. She couldn’t have been exposed to the plague already, could she?

  The servant stood by with a bowl of broth for her to drink once she awakened, but when time stretched on, and she never roused, Beon patted at her cheeks gently. “Sophia, my lovely little dove, please wake up. I’m here. It’s me, Beon.”

  She frowned and mumbled in her sleep, but still didn’t open her eyes.

  When he spoke her name once more, she groaned and then asked sleepily, “Are you real?”

  With a chuckle escaping him, he gathered her hand into his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Yes, of course, it’s me, my lady. Oh, how I missed you... Are you all right? How do you feel?”

  When she didn’t respond to his questions, he frowned and patted at her cheeks once more. Thinking that getting some fluids into her might do some good, he reached for the small bowl of broth held by the servant. Beon turned around and tucked one arm beneath her shoulders to prop her up and then pressed the bowl to her lips.

  Once the liquid touched her lips, she opened her mouth and drank a little, but she still didn’t fully awaken. Again, she moaned, her head lulling back.

  Lowering her back to the pillow, Beon handed the bowl back to the servant.

  Rising from the bed to pace the chamber, he forced himself to stop looking at her mouth because wild thoughts of kissing her awake kept filling his mind. And if she did return to consciousness while his mouth covered hers, Beon knew he would not be able to resist acting on those thoughts, sending the servant away and begging her to make love to him so he could tell her with every part of himself that he loved her more than anything in this world.

  Well aware of the fact that this line of thinking was inappropriate, Beon dragged fingers through his hair, wishing the temptation to act on such thoughts wasn’t so great. Getting control of himself, Beon instead focused on how he could make Sophia his bride in the honorable way.

  It was time to speak to her father. It was time to stand up and stake his claim. Beon would ask for her hand in marriage this very day. He would finally take her away from all the people and worries crushing her spirit, and they could live happily at Brentworth, for he was now the lord and vassal of the land. Even though he wasn’t yet a knight by title, he was a lord.

  Doing this sooner than later would also help his poor mother cope with the loss of Father. Sophia’s bright spirit and smiling face would give Mother happier things to think on, a much needed distraction to help her heal from the heartache.

  Suddenly the door burst open, and Lord Gall stormed inside with Marcel close behind. Lord Gall looked rather pale and withered since Beon had last seen him three or four years prior. However, he still had the same cold and angry glare as he scanned the people in the chamber with harsh disapproval.

  “What are you doing here?” he barked at Beon.

  “Your daughter swooned, and I carried her—”

  “You are dismissed,” he interrupted, then turned his scowl toward Sophia. “Wake her up!” he said to Marcel as he snapped his fingers.

  Marcel rushed forward and slapped at her cheeks firmly enough Beon found himself grinding his teeth together. He suspected Marcel didn’t mean to be so rough with her, supposing a younger brother might not consider such things, so he restrained himself from reacting.

  When Sophia remained unconscious, he worried that she might still be overheated and getting her lady’s maid in here to strip the confining stays and gown off her body would be the most helpful solution. With Lord Gall in the room, however, he didn’t think it was possible to get her the help she needed, seeing as how it wasn’t really his place. So he decided it was now or never if he was going to make a claim for Sophia’s hand. “My lord, might I have a quick word?”

  “I have asked you to leave, Master Everard, this is a family matter and none of your concern.”

  Beon’s face flushed with anger, but he took a breath to steady himself and keep his calm. Understanding a little of how this man’s mind worked, and that he would need to feel like he was in control, Beon dropped to one knee before Lord Gall and bowed his head. Keeping his voice firm Beon said, “My lord, I humble myself before you and ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage. After my father’s passing, his land and title have been bequeathed to me. I can promise your daughter will have a good life in my care.”

  “What is this nonsense? I have already given my blessing to Sir Percy. You are wasting your breath. Now for the last time, get the hell out of my sight.”

  Beon looked up in shock. “But, my lord, I would be willing to offer you a dowry rather than the other way round. Surely that is a more attractive offer than whatever terms you’ve agreed to with Sir Percy.”

  “Even if it were, the answer would still be ‘no.’ Even for all the gold in Christendom. For you, the answer will always be ‘no.’”

  “What have I ever done to offend you, my lord?” Beon asked, some of what he was feeling slipping into his tone. He knew he was letting his temper get the better of him, but there was only so much he was willing to take from this wretch of a man.

  “You are arrogant and self-righteous. You think you are superior to me and everyone around you. You are now and have always been dead wrong. You are a commoner. A peasant. And that is why you will always remain but a servant to me.”

  Beon stood and faced Lord Gall, “My lord, I have born your mistreatment of me since the first day I arrived on your doorstep, and I have accepted your ill will with grace and dignity, but— ”

  “Master Everard, you will hold your tongue and reme
mber your place, or I will have you dishonorably discharged from my service and hung for insubordination. If you care anything at all about your father’s good name, I would think very carefully about what you do or say next.”

  Beon fumed. Instinctively his hand clamped around the hilt of his sword, wanting so badly to draw it and challenge Lord Gall right then and there. A number of things kept him from actually doing it, however. The first one being that Marcel was in the room and while Beon believed him to be a better man than his father, this wasn’t the best time to test out his loyalties. The next one being that if he were reckless enough to push the matter now, he risked the situation escalating out of control. Again, reasoning that it was best to keep his head and come up with another plan, Beon promptly backed down.

  “I will take my leave.” He gave a slight nod and then moved for the door.

  Once alone in the hallway and the door had shut behind him, he cursed aloud.

  “Yes. Unfortunately for you, we have the same good taste in women.” Beon spun to find Sir Percy leaning against the wall just outside of Sophia’s chambers. “I’m afraid there are many casualties in this little game of love and war, Master Everard. You’ll get over it.”

  “This is not a game, my lord,” Beon breathed, his nostrils flaring.

  “Oh, I imagine you’ll find that, with time, it is all a great game of strategy.”

  “We are talking about Lady Gall’s life and happiness.”

  “No, we’re talking about a business arrangement between her father and myself. I also happen to be quite enamored with the lady. I look forward to awakening the wild beast within her.”

  Beon sputtered in disbelief at the man’s audacity and vulgarity. “If it’s money you need—?”

  Sir Percy laughed, cutting him off. “Money is not what I need, Master Everard. It is a challenge I seek. And I do admit to taking a great deal of pleasure in torturing Gall, the ignorant lout. I’m sure I will grow tired of it eventually, but until then, Lady Gall will bring me quite a good deal of pleasure.”