A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes)

by Craig P Roberts

  There was no response until King Anthony jumped in, saying, “My father is a man who likes his food, indeed.” He smiled and laughed a horrible, forced, weak chuckle.

  He didn’t hear a word, she was sure of it. The king and his mother struck up a conversation about the lack of food in her kitchen. The poor old woman continually hinted about being allowed outside again. He is practically keeping them prisoner here, Londenia realized. Or is he hiding them? A father with such a debilitating thing as useless ears would not stand well for a king who thinks he must bleed every weakness, or so called abomination in power, in the kingdoms.

  This old man’s weakness was something that could be of advantage to her but she had to be certain of it. She waited for the old man to look up again. When he did, she smiled at him, took a deep breath and set her trap…

  Londenia mouthed words, without any sound, “Do I have something on my face?” Her lips moved in total silence as mother and son bickered, unaware, next to her.

  “No,” Rigard murmured in his strange voice.

  Got you, Londenia thought as mother and son fell silent, locking their gaze on the old man.

  “No what, Father?” King Anthony asked, clearly confused by the sudden random word from the old man.

  Londenia raised her hand as if wiping something from her face but really using it to cover her lips as she turned to King Anthony and Ilar. “Forgive us for interrupting, I offered to serve your father more stew but it seems he is full.” Her words seemed to satisfy the two to her right and all of them went back to eating.

  Later that evening, back in the high room, she sat in the corner while King Anthony stared and tapped at the glowing panel at his writing desk. Londenia strained her eyes to see the engravings on its brass surround. There were two patterns: a simple flower with perhaps ten or twelve petals, and multiple squares set within each other. These simple patterns repeated around the rim of the device.

  With the strange lights illuminating the room and the darkness outside, it was sometimes difficult to see out of the window; all Londenia saw was a reflection of the room itself. If she tried hard, she could sometimes catch the light from another of the tall towers outside and focus her eyes on it to partly see the darkened city. Scarred Nahar’s glow pierced through the window, making it look as if it were sitting in the reflected room.

  With hardly any view of the outside world and only the king perched at his writing desk for company, Londenia felt more trapped than at any other time since he first flashed his pointed teeth at her on the Fair Blue Maiden.

  It is the first night I have been out of a cage and yet I feel like the bars are closer than ever before. Something stirred inside her and she spoke. “Why have you not bled him?”

  “What did you say?” the king snapped, looking up from the glowing panel.

  “I said, why have you not killed him like the others?”

  “Killed who?” His lips tightened.

  “Rigard.”

  The king stood abruptly and glided to where she sat, towering over her like a tall, thin shadow. “And why would I bleed my own father, may I ask?” His voice shook.

  “Why did you kill King Stewart?”

  The King just smirked, shook his head and picked Londenia up by the arm. He ushered her to the cage.

  She didn’t resist. I have you now. She pressed him further, saying, “A simple question, isn’t it? I’m sure you told me, right before you bled his queen and wife, it’s just my memory fails me. Tell me again, why did you have King Stewart killed?” Londenia was back behind the bars and the lock was snapped shut.

  King Anthony stared at her through the cold metal, then calmly spoke. “King Stewart was planting his useless seed in those abominations. He weakens the very essence of the Ten Kingdoms and the true word of the Ten High-Gods.” He turned to walk back to his writing desk.

  “No, there was something else.” She twirled a finger round and round. “What was it?” she probed, knowing the answer she wanted.

  “Don’t play games with me.”

  “I’ve been stuck in a cage for Ten-Gods-knows how long, so you will humor me with a game once in a while.”

  He turned and stormed towards her like a dark cloud, reaching through the bars, and grabbing her by the neck. “King Stewart was killed because he was a fat, useless weakness with a failing body who insisted on keeping his throne and attempting to spread his rotten seed.”

  As his bony hand closed around her throat, the air was leaving her. Her thoughts edged away.

  She felt the release. Air returning. The shadow of the king turned and moved away again. Londenia dropped to her knees, trying to regain her breath. I’ve got him in a corner. I have to keep going. The gasping queen was desperate to understand the twisted man standing in the room and she was finally beginning to get somewhere, although her body might not be able to withstand another choking. “I know other kings with broken parts,” she muttered.

  King Anthony stood totally still, looking out at the broken moon. “He is no longer king!”

  Took the bait. “Who is no longer king?”

  “You think you’re winning your little game and yet you sit in a cage.”

  “I thought we weren’t playing games.” She waited for another witty reply but when it didn’t come she decided to break cover. “Your father, (the former) King Rigard’s ears don’t work. And yet here he is, still alive. But I notice he is somewhat hidden from public view.”

  “He was removed from power immediately after his body started to fail and has not been allowed to breed.”

  “Perhaps King Stewart would have stepped down. He wasn’t given much choice in the matter!” She leaned forward, grabbing the bars and pushed her face between them, asking slowly, “So I ask again, why did you not kill him like the others?”

  “I decide who lives or dies and the fate of the Ten Kingdoms!” he said firmly, turning back to her cage.

  Keep pressing him, she told herself. “That sounds awfully god-like to me, Your Grace.” Her words were meant to irritate, and they did just that.

  He slammed his skinny fist on the writing desk. “Blasphemy!” he shouted, raising his voice for a rare occasion. He steadied himself, and continued, “I was chosen by the gods, I am not one!”

  “It is very convenient to have been chosen by the gods for such a mission that you feel you have been set. Being able to pick and choose what you believe. I do not believe for one moment that the Ten could be so cruel as to command you to do what you have done.”

  “Pah!” King Anthony gasped. “Forgive me High-Ten for what I am about to say,” he said in prayer, then eyed Londenia. “If you believe that the Ten are merciful and kind, then you are clearly not one with the Ten. After the High-Ten destroyed Nahar in punishment to the lower-gods, they all came here and built these cities. Many lower-gods perished in the destruction of Nahar.” He pointed through the window to Scarred Nahar in the night sky. “Think of all the travesties in the Mortal Realm. All the children that die. All the men that beat their women. All of the suffering. That all happened even when the High-Ten lived on this very land and still continues now as they watch over us in spirit. Unimaginable suffering which they allow…which they created! And not to mention the Great Poison which they themselves brought upon this land…killing millions! I do not question their ways for a moment. We cannot begin to understand their meaning and intent. But one would be a fool to say that they are kind and nurturing.”

  His words struck meaning with her but she shook off the doubts and continued to press him. “But they taught us never to use blade, even if it were on our enemies. If you are so loyal to the Ten, why go directly against their teachings? I assume they have spoken to you,” she mocked, “and given you permission to do such things?”

  “Their messengers have,” he replied, pointing to his glowing panel. “They spoke in a strange tongue but the gods’ device let me understand their words and they said to ‘bleed weakness’. They brought me this new commandmen
t from the High-Ten. And once I rid the kingdoms of weakness, showing our strength, I will be granted an army to serve us as a gift for my obedience to the will of the Ten.”

  “And these are your friends you spoke of who are not of this world?” she asked, finding herself becoming engrossed in finally getting some useful information.

  “Yes. And they will be the most powerful army…an army of guardians that will bring peace by keeping all in the light of the Ten. They are not mortals like you or I. You know very well that the High-Ten are not the only gods. There were tens of thousands of lower-gods, living in these cities, ruled by the High-Ten. But these messengers I spoke to, through the gods’ gift; they too, are powerful. They are messengers from the High-Ten…‘guardians’! Perhaps even as powerful as the lower-gods, like the ones who once lived among us.

  “I have seen their faces, through the gods’ device,” he indicated to his treasured brass-trimmed panel again. “Yes, they have eyes, and a nose and a mouth, but there is something…different. The shape of their face; beautiful but terrifying. I found myself unable to look away, and yet their black eyes chilled my blood. They looked not like us mortals, or the gods.”

  It was common knowledge that there were many lower-gods who the High-Ten created in their own image and lived among them. King Anthony, however, spoke of ‘guardians’. Londenia had never heard of the Ten creating any being other than the lower-gods, mortals and the beasts of the land and sea.

  “Why do these guardians not come now and help you rid the kingdoms of weakness? If the Ten will it, then surely they could bring them to you now.”

  “It seems that Beverine wished me to prove my worth before lowering Her shield to let my gift through.” The king spoke of the shield that protects the Mortal Realm. It is a great cocoon made by the goddess of protection, Beverine, which surrounds everything to protect all mortals. It is invisible but ships report that it is impassable.

  His tongue is loose, keep him talking. It was almost as if King Anthony was enjoying revealing his mission to her. She asked him, “Have you proven your worth?”

  “Only Beverine can say so. And I have not had contact with the messengers ever since they left their homeland on their journey to the shield.” Pausing for a moment, he flashed his pointed teeth in a smile. “Now that we are sharing, perhaps you could tell me about your King Romarus. Is he as arrogant as his father was?”

  Don’t you dare speak ill of either of them, she thought but held her words, hoping to gain more information from him. “He has a kind heart and has obeyed the Ten’s teachings…even to your standards.” She flashed a smile with only her lips. That’s a lie, but I’m not giving you any excuse to hunt him down. She had seen Romarus pleasure himself, release his seed in the wrong areas and she herself had contributed to his deviations when he pleasured her in Hal Tal.

  “A shame he is unable to be located. It sounds like he would be an excellent ruler for the wastelands of Last Kingdom when I build the new order.” The king stared into her eyes like he was reading words on a page.

  You think that speaking well of him will make me spill my words…although, I have no words to spill. “It is a great shame and I am eager to locate him as well.” She threw him a slanted smile with a cocked eyebrow.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! Metal rang. King Anthony’s fists pounding on the bars made her jump back and reminded her that she was in a cage, thousands of footfalls above the ground and well and truly alone. He glided back to his writing desk and got on with his usual busy tasks.

  She dreamt of Romarus that night; a true memory from a time before the dark tidings from Mor. The boy king was yet to establish his horde so his frustrations ran deep.

  Londenia poured oil into the palm of her hand. It ran thin, having been warmed next to the fire in the royal bedchamber. King Romarus lay face down on the bed with his bare arse curving up from his legs, leading to the toned muscles on his smooth back. She began by massaging his shoulders, rubbing away the knots. The aroma of the oil stirred an excitement in her. There was a comfort that lingered in the smell, she forever linked it with these wonderful moments. Londenia liked to think she was helping the boy relax and perhaps taking away some of the burdens he must bear. It was a time they spent together, in private, away from other women, the begging smallfolk, and others in the court who Romarus had befriended: those whom he shouldn’t be so familiar with.

  Her hands slid over his arse muscles. When she pushed, his hips sank into the bed. She ran each hand over his cheeks in turn, building a soothing rhythm. The boy king continued to grind into the bed when she stopped to pour more oil onto her hands.

  “Fuck, I’m going to need to,” he said and flipped over onto his back. His hard cock hovered stiffly over his dark-brown bush of pubic hair. “When will you have my horde sorted? I need it so bad,” Romarus asked while he began to rub his cock up and down.

  He’s starting to notice my delays, Londenia worried, as a sinking feeling flopped in her chest. “I want to make sure I find the cleanest and most well-bred women I can. And I have to be extra careful with you not having chosen a wife yet.”

  The king’s hand moved rapidly, without shame, as they continued to speak. A wet slapping sound dominated the otherwise quiet bedchamber. “I’ve waited so long though.” He clenched his jaw, his hand frantically jerking. “You could just get the horde together and I could make sure I pull out before I shoot. Or they could just use their hands on me or something. You could watch to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid. I trust you.”

  “I know you’ve been patient. But this must be done in the right way. You can relieve yourself in this way for just now. Kings are not supposed to spill their seed out with a woman, but you know I will not speak of this to anybody.”

  “Thanks! You do so much for me. But seriously, hurry with the horde.” He continued to pleasure himself. Romarus opened his legs and looked down towards his cock.

  He’s getting close, she recognized the signs. Londenia wished it could be her giving him what he desired but that could never happen. “If you’re close you should stand up,” she said, grabbing a towel, holding it out as she did every night when the king was nearly ready.

  He stood over her by the side of the bed and she knelt in front of him with the towel. He bent his knees and rounded his back with his hand moving as fast as a spinning staff.

  Londenia looked up at his face. The boy king’s eyes were screwed shut and veins in his neck throbbed. The muscles in his chest rippled. Warmth exuded from his naked body. He cursed and gasped through gritted teeth. She inhaled his musk and locked it away in her memory. It was like a blanket. Romarus rocked as if he was willing Urenies to bring him the feeling. Londenia felt a pulsing below and a yearning to hold the boy king’s body close.

  A shudder and a groan from Romarus made her look to his cock. His hand slowed and shot after shot of white seed landed on the towel she held. As he continued to shoot, he bent forward and his cheek touched hers. She leaned into it, rubbing her skin against his face.

  “Ahh Bostonia,” the king muttered in her ear. It was as if he had punched her in the gut. He was quite entitled to say her sister’s name and he meant no malice towards her. It was not as if Londenia and Romarus could ever become anything more than king and queen but it still hurt to be reminded that these private moments would soon come to an end. They would inevitably be shared with somebody else. She would soon assemble his horde, he would choose a wife and from then on he would have other places to spill his seed, other than a towel held by his queen so that he didn’t soil the rugs or bedsheets. Their cozy, private connection would be ripped away forever.

  She woke in her cage with Romarus’s warmth still lingering from her dream. It slowly began to dissipate as if somebody opened a door and let in a cold draft. She was moist down below and felt the same lightness she felt back in Hal Tal after Romarus gave her his gift. A lump grew in her throat as she thought of her boy king and what may have become of him.

  Lo
ng shadows cast by the rising sun stretched across the Dead City. Londenia was let out of her cage and given breakfast on the writing desk, cleared of all papers. Anthony sat opposite her, staring in silence as he ate. His pointed teeth made hair-raising scrapes every so often as he chewed. King Anthony would wince when his sharp teeth failed to slot together properly on certain bites. It was becoming unbearable to listen, so she stood and took her plate to sit in the corner of the room, next to her cage.

  “Something I said?” he asked, flippantly.

  Her patience was wearing thin. “I can’t sit there while you eat.”

  “My face then?” he offered, playing his little game.

  Well that little arse on your chin does annoy me incessantly… “No, it’s the grinding of your teeth.” She shuddered at the thought of it. “It makes my spine crawl.”

  As soon as she had finished her sentence, the king unleashed a torrent of teeth gnashing. Londenia rounded her shoulders and a shiver went down her back. She turned away from him to face the corner.

  A long grinding sound filled the room as he scraped his chair along the floor. It went around the desk, to the middle of the room, the scraping noise growing louder, ending up right behind her. Ting ting ting, his teeth chimed. He laughed. “Lighten up.” A bony pat on the shoulder followed.

  Lighten up?! She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “Well, I’ll do my best to forget about my childhood friend being bled and losing my king and—”

  He broke her chain of thought, announcing, “This was how we were meant to be.” Another gnashing of teeth came from behind her. “You have only ever seen paintings of the gods with their mouths closed. In the gallery across from this high tower, there are hundreds of paintings and even images where it is as if a moment in time has been captured, framed and hung on the wall. When the male High-Ten and lower-gods smile, they have sharp teeth coming to a point.”