by Joni Green
“I see,” said Dyryke.
“I ran to the chambers where the young prince slept, but I was too late.”
“We all were,” said Dyryke.
“Where are you going?” Perdix asked.
“To hunt for the youngling.”
“But it is hopeless.”
“Better to make an appearance than suspected later on. Come. We need to make a good show. Then, when the King looks for a scapegoat to hang this horrible thing on, we will be above suspicion. Were we not out with the others scrambling over the countryside? When the King realizes the boy is lost, we all will need strong pleas of innocence.”
“Then, let us go at once,” said Perdix.
Chapter 27
Ava
Tis better to live and die an honest man.
Such is the wisdom of fools who never tasted that bloody, forbidden fruit.
*****
They searched for weeks. The King was wild with grief. Peasants and nobles were rounded up, beaten, tortured, and killed, but no one knew anything about the child’s abduction.
“O Sire.”
It was the Queen. The King was standing by a window, looking out beyond the castle walls at the tranquil, rolling hills of Megara.
“I pray your blessing upon this, your humble servant,” she said, taking his bejeweled hand and placing it on her ripe, swollen abdomen.”
The crease in the King’s forehead deepened. His brows pinched together. He looked intently into his wife’s eyes. She smiled.
“We have been given a wonderful gift,” she said. “A second chance.”
“Another son? A new heir?”
“I cannot promise you a son, for I cannot know whether it is a boy or a girl child,” said the Queen, “but the omens point to health and long life.”
He kissed the Queen. His hand had never left her stomach, and he felt the baby kick inside its mother’s womb.
“It does not matter,” said the King. “Boy or girl. If it lives, I will be content.”
Within weeks, a healthy baby girl was born. The King allowed the Queen to name the princess.
She called the baby Ava.
Chapter 28
For Lust and Greed
To sleep so deeply, it seems like death.
It renders deaf and dumb.
Tis better then to stay alert and watch
For Evil comes.
*****
How like the innocent lamb. He sleeps. Yet that smile on his face is false. He believes he is in heaven.
He dreams.
A nightmare.
The fire burns hot. The woman’s entrails almost cook beside the fire. She stinks. Even before death began to rot her from the inside out, she stank. Greed and lust black her heart and force her to sell her body for profit and pleasure.
I have no pity for this one.
No pity for any of them anymore.
How strange, for before, the heart that beat within my bosom would have melted at this one’s lot.
But no more.
I was weak then. Too weak and innocent.
But no more.
He rouses, this adulterous fool I am ashamed to call my husband.
‘It is for the good of Megara that you must do this.’
That was all that Father said. Like a parrot, he repeated this line to me over and over. He has no love for me. Only for this ragged kingdom, he is determined to keep together at all costs.
And it has cost him his daughter.
But then, that is not counted as much. I am the girl child. Not the beloved son.
Soon, the King will be dead and moldering in his tomb.
Long live the King.
Hah.
It is a cruel joke the King believes, for he thinks his lineage will carry on by joining me to this drunken slug that lies by this fire, snorting and sleeping the sleep of fools.
I would rather die a thousand deaths than bare his son.
How good it is for me that I won’t have to die or bare his child.
The shadows of the sun march forward. He does not know he is breathing his last and fleeting breath.
He does not know.
I think he should.
“Awake. Arise. You sleepy thing. Stardust fills your eyes. Arise. Arise. Your hour has come. The dead await you at your tomb.”
The spell complete, Wolfstan yawns and opens his eyes.
He sees his smiling wife, and for a half-slumbered second, he thinks he has arrived back at Castle Corlac.
‘Silly boy,’ I say.
His eyes widen. He sees the wretched wench beside him.
My claws are sharp and deadly.
They pierce his skin, sinking to the dirt floor that soaks his rancid sweat like a hot knife sinks into a bowl of lard.
Chapter 29
The Spell
The simpleton dies a thousand deaths.
Imagination blooms.
But when Ichor comes
That is truly a fate unimaginable.
*****
The air was thinner. Xhahari could hear the ragged breathing as Perdix struggled to keep up.
“Let us take a moment,” said the young man. “The animal struggles, and so do we.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling? You have barely broken a sweat, Xhahari. And the animal is fine.”
Perdix stopped and looked at the sun. It was high in the sky.
“I know you mean well,” said Perdix. “But we must cover as much ground as possible. Do not let the grunting of an old man distress you. I am alright. We must make it to that ridge over there. We will set up camp there and rest with the coming night.”
“As you wish,” said Xhahari.
They walked for many hours more. At last, Perdix gave the sign that they had found their resting place for the night. A clear brook bubbled over the rocks nearby. The area was sheltered on three sides by large boulders, and the peaks stood proudly all around them.
“It is a place most desolate,” said Perdix, gazing about. “Yet, it has a strange, enchanting beauty all its own.”
“It is lovely,” said Xhahari, who left the site to seek firewood.
Perdix kept busy unpacking the donkey and tying it near the stream where it could graze and drink.
“Eika,” he whispered in one furry ear, “do not let down your guard. This is truly an enchanting place, but it is filled with much danger, too.”
After they’d eaten a small meal, Perdix looked at Xhahari and said, “Rest the night. I will take first watch.”
“Promise me you will not spare me my turn,” said Xhahari. “You need your rest as much as I. It would be just like you to let me sleep the night away because you do not wish to rouse me from my slumber.”
“Yes,” said Perdix, and he made a sign with his hand to Xhahari.
The young man lay before the roaring fire and pulled his tunic about him. Soon, he was fast asleep.
Perdix looked up into the heavens. It was a clear, cloudless night.
“Winter will be coming soon,” he muttered, moaning softly at the ache that the cold night air set off in his bones.
He added more wood to the fire. The dancing orange light sent out ghostly shadows dancing over the rocks around them. He got up and led the donkey closer to the fire.
“No sense in your staying in the dark alone, Eika. I need to keep an eye on you, as well.”
The fire popped and crackled. Eika was startled. Kicking a rock with its hoof, the donkey uncovered a serpent.
The snake was long and thick and angry at having been disturbed. The donkey brayed, tugged at its rope, and Perdix heard the snap as the tie broke. Eika raced off into the night.
“What?” Xhahari cried.
Perdix lunged toward the lad with a burning stick. The serpent had slithered toward the youth. The snake reared up and sunk its wickedly long fangs deep into Perdix’s lower leg.
“Augh!”
Xhahari snatched the flaming torch from Perdix’s hand, stuffing the fiery
wood straight down the serpent’s throat.
It twisted and writhed and died near the glowing ashes that had been scattered in the tussle.
“It is Polceti,” Xhahari whispered.
“Sit,” Xhahari demanded.
Perdix did as he was told. Already, the old man’s skin was clammy and turning gray.
“I will get the ochre-colored pouch,” said Xhahari.
The young man whipped out his knife and plunged it into the hot coals. Ripping a band of material from his tunic, he ran and dipped the cloth into the stream. Grabbing the heated knife, Xhahari cut a small slit in his arm. He sucked the blood from his wound and spat it into his hand. He poured yellow powder from the bag and mixed a paste with his finger in the palm of his hand. He smeared it all over the material.
He placed this scrap on the hot blade and set it on a rock. It sizzled and popped. Grabbing a candle from another bag, he lit the wick with a burning stick. He took the blade and reheated it over the candle’s flame, murmuring magic words until a green smoke erupted from the mixture, and it turned black.
Perdix was breathing heavily, now. The old man looked like he’d been caught in a thunderstorm. His hair clung to his forehead in wet strands. He wiped the salty sweat from his eyes with a dirty sleeve.
“Finish the spell, Xhahari,” he commanded. “Quickly.”
The youth took a handful of ashes from the edge of the pit. He slung them at Perdix who was sprinkled with a light coating like snow. He muttered words in a strange tongue.
Xhahari chopped a portion of the dead snake into tiny pieces and chewed the raw meat until it was a bloody pulp. He spat the mass into his palm. He rolled it into a ball with more ashes and placed the glob atop his knife blade with the sticky black conglomeration and flattened the mixture into a thin film. He scraped off the char from the blade into the wound on the old man’s leg.
“Winds of the East. Gales from the South. Return the poison back to the serpent’s mouth. Let it be done. Let it be done that no harm comes to this bitten one.”
The spell took hold of the old man. He fell to the earth, his back arching in such a tight reversed ‘U’ that his forehead ground in the dirt. The old man’s arms spun like pinwheels, and he levitated from the earth, rolling in the air like a gyroscope. A blur of motion and whirring spin. There was nothing left for Xhahari to do but go and bury the pieces of the snake back under the rock where it had been living.
Either the magic would work or the old man would die. Xhahari could not know for sure if the spell had worked until the snake was returned to the earth. Left unburied, the young man knew that his teacher would spin like a top in the air forever.
When the last handful of dirt was patted atop the buried snake, Perdix fell to the ground with a thud.
Xhahari ran to him.
“You have learned your lessons well,” said Perdix.
“Will you be alright?”
“We will see,” said the old man. “For now, I close my eyes and sleep. If I awaken with the coming of the new day’s sun, all is well. If not, go home. You have done your duty. I have lived a long life. There are no regrets.”
Xhahari left the old man sleeping by the fire. He made sure that enough wood was on it to last until morning.
He went in search of the donkey.
Chapter 30
A Hard Climb
The slave. The King.
It matters not to me.
The rich. The poor.
For only this, I see
Humanity’s a bright red banquet.
And the table’s spread for me.
*****
“Here,” said Perdix, handing the sleeping youth a cup of steaming hot liquid.
Xhahari sat up on one elbow and smiled.
“I am glad you were able to get some sleep,” said Perdix. “And I see you found Eika. I hope the animal was not too hard to find.”
“No,” said Xhahari, taking a long drink from the cup.
He spewed the liquid out on the ground.
“What is this foul tasting brew?” Xhahari asked.
Perdix laughed.
“It is just a few herbs, fly dung, and some mushrooms I gathered from the cow piles before we left home.”
“I think you must have been rather heavy with the dung, Perdix. That stuff is really wicked.”
“I know,” he said. “But try to drink it. If you can keep it down, it will be a good thing. The fly dung will heal you inside out. The mushrooms will help us, too. You will find they will give you wondrous powers of observation and hearing. Not to mention, if I got the ingredients mixed in the right measures, it can work as a flying ointment, as well.
“Refill my cup,” said Xhahari.
He drank deeply, emptying the cup of the last drops.
“That’s what I like about you, son,” said Perdix, “you hunger to experience the great experiments that push us farther toward Divine Knowledge.”
“I don’t know about that,” Xhahari said. “But I don’t think I’ll be kissing fair maidens anytime soon. They’d run away the instant I opened my mouth and gave them a whiff of my stinking breath.”
Perdix laughed.
“There will be time for such mischief later, I hope. Come. There is still a hard climb ahead.”
Chapter 31
Ascent into Hell
Time means nothing
When you have nothing but Time to spare.
*****
They began the ascent. Solid rock walls and sheer cliffs left little room to put a foot or grasp a solid handhold. The donkey was securely tied to a tree at the bottom of the mountain.
Xhahari bent backward to survey the rugged peaks.
“I cannot see the Caves of Rotou,” he said.
“My dear boy,” said Perdix, “you would not be able to see their entrance if it was right here in front of you.”
“Then, how do we enter?”
“I am even now saying the spells to pull the curtain from their door. I repeat them silently in my head.”
“Good,” said the boy. “I would not like to make it all the way to the top only to have you say the way is barred.”
“It will not be,” said the old man. “Not if I have anything to say about the matter.”
“How much of this stuff will we need?”
“All of it and more. Tie as much as you can carry on your back. I will take the rest and tie it to myself.”
“But you are . . .”
“Say no more,” said Perdix. “I am not dead, yet. Merely up in years. That is all. I am stronger than I look.”
He winked at Xhahari.
“Especially,” said Perdix, “after the healing balm you applied to my leg got its chance to dance through my veins.”
Xhahari laughed.
“As the owl, old man, you are quite a hoot.”
“We will try to make it up to that silver ledge that hangs about out. See it, there?”
“Umm.”
“That will give us a table to lay out heads upon, out of the gales.”
“Gales?” said Xhahari.
“The stormy winds blow treacherously when night falls. I have witnessed it before. If you can find a small ledge to wedge yourself in, chances are, you will make it till the morning.”
“We have everything.”
“Good,” said Perdix. “You first. And remember. Once you start, do not look down. The curse of curses if you do. And I cannot reverse such strong black magic.”
“As you say, Master.”
Chapter 32
The Celestial Intelligence
The River of Life.
Maroon and thick.
A sticky syrup.
Nectar of the gods.
*****
They had been climbing for several hours. Xhahari was faithful to keep his eyes glued in front of him, but his ears focused on the sounds the old man was making below him. As long as the youth heard the soft curses and grunts, he knew that Perdix was still just below him on the
ir ascent.
“I pray Polceti is asleep among these rocks,” Xhahari yelled. “If he stirs and strikes, there is no way to remedy the poison he will put inside our bodies.”
“Polceti does not sleep this high,” said Perdix. “Those vipers prefer the balmier climate of the valley. Besides, there is little for them to eat way up here but stones of varying sizes.”
“You have a point,” said Xhahari.
“Careful, son. We are almost to the ledge. The rocks are deceiving. Kick each one and make sure it holds strong alongside the mountain. It is but another danger of these peaks.”
“How many times have you made this climb, Master?”
“Only once before,” said Perdix. “I climbed up here with a companion, but I went back down alone.”
*****
Many years before.
The bells of the church had been ringing nonstop for several hours. Perdix feared the noise would drive him mad.
“Come,” said the young man standing in the alchemist’s chamber.
“I cannot,” Perdix said. “You know the King wishes to consummate the wedding bed. It has been three days since he and the Queen were wed, and all witnesses who have been standing watch over the royal bed say that nothing has occurred.”
Perdix raked his hand through his thick dark curls. His hair was unruly, and strands were always falling down into his eyes.
“I think he is just fearful,” said the young man. “Wouldn’t you be if you had twenty pairs of spooks’ eyes watching every move you and your beloved made under the covers?”
“But they must have proof the couple has coupled. An heir is no small thing, Dyryke. Megara’s future depends on it.”
“I think the pot is watched too closely to boil,” said Dyryke.
“You may have a point,” said Perdix. “I think my romantic ardor would pale under so many eyes. I’m glad I’m not the King. Too much stress is not good for the spindle, you know. It makes for a flabby, wilted stem.”
“Well,” said Dyryke, “you and I will never know that kind of pressure. Thankfully, Venus comes to us, and we can have her under the cover of night or in broad daylight. No one gives a flit who we plant our seed inside of. It comes with the territory of being handsome, virile, and besotting nobodies.”