Illera's Darkliete: A Coming of Age Fantasy

by Gail Gernat

  “My lady, Queen Dora, sent you this for to wear to the evening meal, Lady. I’m to stay to make sure it fits. If’n don’t I’ll take the measure and take it to the seamstress so you’n can be properly dressed.”

  Illera fingered the material. It was far finer than anything she had worn.

  “Do I have time to bathe first?” she asked the girl.

  “No, mam, if’n it needs fixin’ we needs the time now.”

  Sighing, Illera took the dress to the bathing room and changed into it, holding it up in both hands. The girl gave a little giggle when she saw her, for the dress hung around her like a tent, bagging far down in the front and being a foot too big on the sides and bottom. The child got to work and had the dress pinned into a more dignified configuration in just a few minutes. Illera changed again and gave her the garment. She scurried out of the door.

  Left to her own devices, Illera decided to bathe and prepare herself for the night to come. After a good wash and a short nap, she spent the time staring down from the window watching the servants trotting to and fro in the garden. As the sky began to darken, the same little girl knocked and entered Illera’s room. She held out the dress.

  Illera retreated to the bathing room. The dress fit perfectly, outlining her curves and emphasizing her proportions. It was cut lower at the front than Illera was used to, exposing her collarbones and revealing a lot of cleavage. Her riding boots did not go with the dress, but she had no other footwear, so she wore them. The girl was waiting by the dressing table when she emerged.

  “Here, Lady. I’m to do your hair.”

  Obediently Illera allowed herself to be fussed over; her long copper locks were pinned into a high crown of curls on her head. The girl then produced a garish sapphire pendant and placed it about Illera’s neck and matching earrings on her ears.

  “There you go Lady, you are perfect,” the child exclaimed.

  Illera looked at herself in the polished silver of the mirror. She did indeed look different from her usual self, elegant and royal. She laughed a little at the image. The girl smiled.

  “Come, I’ll show you the way. The banquet should have begun by now.”

  Illera followed the child, retracing her steps of earlier, descending the great staircase. Every table in the great hall below was filled to capacity with people, and every face was turned to her as she made her way down the steps. A murmur ran through the crowd. Two men rose from the king’s table and made their way to the foot of the stairs. With a start, she recognized Lark and Raven, washed, barbered and dressed in royal garments, waiting for her. The recognition almost made her lose her footing. She joined them, and they escorted her to the king’s table. She sat at the Queen’s left hand.

  “I see my old dress was suitable after all,” the Queen told her with a piercing gaze that examined her from head to foot.

  “Thank you for your graciousness,” replied Illera. “All my luggage remains at Korul’s castle, and my attire has suffered dreadfully for it.”

  The Queen gave her a pleased smile. A loud “AH” rippled through the assembled throng and Illera turned. Ashera was poised at the top of the stairs, staring down at the great crowd. A flicker of uncertainty slipped across her face, immediately replaced with a wide smile. She had never looked so beautiful, in a blood-colored gown, liberally decorated with gemstones and golden threads. Her hair was piled high and glowed with more jewels. She descended like a true queen and Illera’s heart sang with joy for her. King Uggarick himself moved to escort her to her place at his right hand. Illera sighed with pleasure. The Queen looked at her and smiled.

  “You are not jealous of your friend?”

  Illera shook her head, “No, why should I be?”

  “If the priests prove she is Uggarick’s daughter she will have untold wealth and luxury for the rest of her life.”

  “I hope she does. I really hope she does, after all, she’s been through she deserves it.”

  “You don’t want that for yourself.”

  Illera laughed out loud. “No, I only want to get back to Madean and live in peace with enough to eat. I require nothing more.”

  The Queen gave her an odd look and turned away to watch Uggarick with his daughter.

  “Well, the resemblance is certainly there,” the Queen murmured to herself.

  “Yes,” replied Illera, “but I thought Ashera’s mother died in Madean.”

  “Yes, his first wife, Mae did. She was the mother of Roc, Gareth, Hobie, and Ashera. Roc is supposed to inherit the throne when Uggarick retires. Those boys are all married, and Roc even has a couple of boys of his own. But Ashera was always special to her father. He has seven sons, but only one daughter.”

  “Are the other boys yours?” Illera asked.

  The Queen smiled expansively, “Yes. My sons are a little younger. That’s Dorian,” she said pointing to a massive young man halfway down the table. “And that’s Aelfred, Beorick, and Marstan. None of my sons are married.”

  She looked at Illera like she was a horse at the market. Illera squirmed in her seat, taking surreptitious looks at the sons of this Queen. All huge, all resembling their father to an uncanny degree, they made her nervous for a reason she could not define. They gave her long looks, turning away as if in deep discussion with their companions on either side, but when she glanced up she could see them all staring again.

  The banquet was interminable. Fish, chicken and red meat, each with its own complement of vegetables and bread, followed soup served in bowls big enough to slop hogs. Finally, massive servings of pudding and cake were set before each of the guests. Illera was already full enough to be sick, although she had eaten less than half of her portions. She pushed the sticky concoction away.

  “Is our banquet not to your liking?” inquired the Queen.

  “Your pardon, Majesty but I have eaten more in this one sitting than in the past several weeks. I am sure I would not honor your lavish table by hurling the contents of my stomach to your clean and shining floors,” retorted Illera.

  The Queen stared at her, astonishment in the roundness of her eyes and the oh of her full lips. Her mouth split into a huge grin and she began to chuckle, then bellow with laughter. All the guests turned to stare, most laughing along with the Queen. Gasping for breath, she repeated Illera’s comment to the King, who also broke into peals of laughter, followed by the whole room. Illera squirmed in her plush chair wishing herself a thousand miles away.

  The entrance of four priests broke the uncomfortable tableau. They shuffled in, like cookies stamped from the same cutter, clad in identical frayed and grubby beige robes that ended in tattered fragments just below their knees. Each shaven head was of a height with the other three, and dark, mournful eyes drooped beneath shaggy brown brows. Narrow noses, concave and flaring at the nostrils perched above tight slashed mouths and receding double chins. Illera could not tell one from the other. Two boys, about twelve years old, scurried after the priests, lugging a heavy wooden chest between them.

  As the servants cleared the dishes and remaining food, and pushed the tables and chairs back against the walls, the boys opened the chest and set out its contents. A thin woven circle of brown material was placed on the floor and a brazier set in the middle, filled with lumps of coal and set alight. A thin, round copper table was assembled and placed over the brazier. A small, shining copper bowl was placed in the center of the table. Incense was added to the coal, and a cloud of sweetish smoke wafted throughout the room. The four priests began to circle the table in a shuffling dance, raising one foot high in the air every fifth step. Their low chanting filled the great room as the odor had, and all the guests watched, mesmerized by the performance.

  Illera’s legs were feeling numb, from standing still so long, when the noise and motion suddenly stopped. Two of the priests fell to the cloth as if senseless. One of the others high stepped to the king and clasping his hand drew him onto the cloth in front of the table. The second then did the same with Ashera. One of the b
oys produced a stiletto and handed it to the priest holding the king. With a single sharp stab, he pierced the king’s palm and let the blood drip into the copper bowl. The other boy handed the priest an opaque blue bottle. Dropping the king’s hand, he removed the stopper and poured a few drops of clear liquid into the blood. It heated quickly and began to boil.

  The other priest held Ashera’s hand over the bowl and taking the knife pierced her palm. As the blood dripped into the bowl, a shaft of steam twined into the air, two columns braiding together then combining before dissipating high overhead. A loud ‘ahhh’ burst from the crowd at the sight. The unconscious priests on the floor began to speak in a language strange to Illera, babbling on in voices that rose higher and higher in pitch and power until they were shouting up into the air, each drowning out the words of the other man. As one they stopped. The silence felt oppressive after the sound, thick and malleable. One of the standing priests tossed a handful of something into the fire, and a thick smoke filled the room, obscuring the outlines of even the nearest persons.

  It gradually dissipated, leaving only a single priest standing in the exact center of the brown circle. The table, bowl, brazier and other priests vanished in the cloud. The priest bowed low before the king and Ashera.

  “My liege,” he intoned in a deep and rumbling voice, “this woman is indeed your child who has been missing these many years. Twelve times now you have summoned the services of The Brotherhood, and eleven of those times has the result been negative, but today, the twelfth time, the results are different. Your blood and hers merged. This means they are the same; she is your own blood and your own flesh. Rejoice! The lost has been returned.”

  The room reverberated with loud cheers. Uggarick’s face split into a grin that he could not repress as he turned and hugged Ashera to him, pushing her back to look at and hugging her again and again. When he finally released her and turned her to face the room full of people, he kept his arm firmly around her shoulders, tucking her under his armpit. Ashera looked stunned. The guests lined up to congratulate the king and his daughter.

  When Illera’s turn came, she hugged Ashera hard. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve to have found a home and a family who loves you.”

  “I’m scared, my Lady, I mean Illera. I can’t do this; I wasn’t raised to be like this. What am I going to do?” Ashera whispered as she hugged Illera back.

  “You’ll do fine. Your family will help you. It will be all right, just give it a chance.”

  Ashera watched her as she moved away, looking far more stunned than pleased by the situation. When the greetings were over, Uggarick led his daughter to the red carpet surrounding his throne and seated her on a plush chair on his left. Queen Dora seated herself on the right.

  “Now,” began the king as the crowd grouped in front of the throne, “I will be taking offers from sufficiently royal young men for the hand of my daughter in marriage. I will, of course, be expecting a large bride price for such a prize as my Ashera, so let the word go out.”

  Ashera turned pale, a look of horror spreading across her broad face.

  “King Uggarick, I have unfinished business that I must attend to before you make such plans for me.”

  “Nonsense. You are finally home, and now you will work for the advantage of the Kingdom of Carnuvon.”

  Ashera looked about to panic. Illera stepped forward, her toes on the red carpet.

  “King Uggarick, may I speak?”

  The king frowned, and the pause was long as he regarded her, his eyes assessing what she would say. Finally, he nodded.

  Illera drew a deep breath, “I am delighted that you have found your daughter after all these years and I am delighted that I had a small part in bringing her to you. Most, unfortunately, she has been through some difficult situations on her way back to you, so difficult and so insulting in fact, that the man who did this evil must answer for it, must pay with his life. I suggest to your majesty, that Ashera will not rest easy until this man has been repaid for his treatment of her.”

  Uggarick’s face darkened, and his mouth turned down at the corners.

  He rose to his feet and bellowed, “Who is this man who insulted my daughter?”

  Illera looked at Ashera who rose herself and faced her father. She mouthed a quick, silent ‘thank you’ to Illera.

  “Korul, King of Frain, has caused me great injury. As Princess Illera said, I cannot rest easy until I am assured of his death, to repay the treatment he gave to me. In fact, I demand that I be the one who removes his head from his body and brings it back to you father, on a pike.”

  Her grin was triumphant. “I have trained as a warrior. I was chosen as bodyguard, and companion to Princess Illera by her father. I will go, and I will fight with this spawn of demons, and I will return to you father and be obedient to your will. But first, I must eliminate this foul stench that hangs about me on account of the King of Frain.”

  “You have just returned to us; I cannot let you go again,” Uggarick stated. “I shall also keep your friend, the Princess Illera. She shall wed one of my sons, and I shall allow her to choose which of the four who remain unmarried as she will. A well-bred Princess is a difficult thing to find in these days.”

  Without asking for permission, Illera spoke up, “I regret I must decline your offer, King Uggarick, but my own country of Madean needs me. King Korul will invade for the insult I did to him, and I must be at home to assist my Father in his defense of Madean.”

  The king was becoming angry, hands clenched into tight fists at his side and veins in his neck bulging under the strain.

  “I am the king of Carnuvon. I have spoken, and I will not be contradicted by two willful females.”

  Illera felt a hand tug at her clothing. Turning her head, she saw Lark and Raven poised to fight their way out of the stronghold. She held up a cautioning hand.

  “My lord, I grant your right to control your kingdom, but if I have done you a kindness in helping to return your daughter, I pray you will also grant me a kindness.”

  He glared at her suspiciously. Illera could hear the tense whispers from the crowd behind her. Uggarick eased back onto his throne.

  “Tell me your request before I say whether or not I will grant it?”

  “Allow your own priest to determine whether or not I should remain here, and whether or not Ashera should be allowed her vengeance,” Illera ventured, bowing her head.

  Placing his chin in one hand, the king pondered.

  “Very well, summon the priests,” he commanded.

  The four men reappeared by magic, the crowd parting to allow them through. The brown cloth was spread again, and again they danced in a circle and chanted, stopping suddenly. Each man withdrew from his robe a handful of bones. In unison, they tossed the bones into the middle of the cloth. Much muttering and pointing ensued. When they seemed to reach a consensus, they turned and approached the king, standing just beyond the edge of the red carpet.

  As one, they bowed their heads and spoke, “My Lord, King, the bones have been tossed, and the omens read. They are dire indeed. The choice, of course, is always with you, O King.”

  “What did you learn?” Uggarick demanded, leaning forward from his throne.

  One priest spoke, “If you choose to keep these woman in Carnuvon, a great evil will spread across the land. It will destroy Madean and Shul, then ooze across the Southern Sea to Carnuvon. For the first time in history, Carnuvon will be conquered, and its streets will run red with blood. Great indeed will be the slaughter and the plunder and the King of Frain will not stop until he has both Princesses in his power. You, yourself, O King, will be bound and have your eyes bored out after you witness the slaughter of your seven sons and the rape and slaughter of your wife. This is the omen we read.”

  Uggarick sat back on his throne, pale and unsettled at the words of the priest.

  “If they return? What happens then?”

  The priests conferred briefly, and a different one spoke, “ Th
e daughter of your body, O King, holds death in her hands for the evil spreading across the land. The Daughter of Madean must return and must rule her homeland, for only thus can the King of Frain be stopped. Light and dark must be her guide. The choice is yours.”

  Ashen-faced, the king, shook his head, “You leave me no choice, I must let them go to save my own kingdom.”

  “Yes father,” interrupted Ashera stumbling over the word father, “you must let me go and finish off Korul. I give you my word; I will bring you his head on a pike.”

  Uggarick took a deep breath, “Very well, Princess Illera will return to her own country, accompanied by my daughter and some of my sons. When Ashera has taken her revenge, she will return to me. If Illera wishes to return as well, she will be welcomed in Carnuvon and into the royal family. All attacks on Madean are to cease immediately. We will attack Frain since their king insulted a royal daughter of Carnuvon. Plunder and loot every inch of coastline, make Korul pay for his lack of wisdom in choosing his enemies.”

  Uggarick rose and swept from the room followed by Dora and Ashera. Illera stepped back, shaking, to be supported by strong arms and wide grins.

  Chapter 10

  The column of air rising up the cliff face blew Illera’s hair back from her face as she peered down the sheer drop to the ocean foaming against the rock below. She perched on the highest point of the outside wall, yearning towards Madean. She could feel her country’s pull, tugging in a physical sensation in her chest and stomach. If she closed her eyes, she felt the magnetic attraction would draw her home through the air, but, she was solidly rooted to the stone. Maggie soared below, supported by the shaft of rising air, drifting along without moving a feather. She felt a vague envy, a mindless wish to soar over the sea on unmoving wings.

  “Hey,” a voice below called, breaking her reverie.

  Looking down, she noticed Lark with his feet planted far apart and hands on his hips. He raised his hands and cupped them around his mouth.

  “You should come down from there.”