by K. C. May
“Is someone there?” someone asked in a heavy accent.
Feanna opened the door, coming face-to-face with a huge barbarian wielding a knife. The man was at least as tall as Gavin, with large muscles and golden-brown skin. He was naked from the waist up except for a metal plate in the center of his broad chest. His only clothing consisted of boots and a leather cloth wrapped around his waist.
“Who are you?” asked the smaller man standing near the settee.
“The queen sends a message,” Feanna said. She remembered to curtsey, but it might not have mattered. These two men, judging by their appearance and clothing, were unlikely to be familiar with the customs of Thendylath.
“She knows I’m here? I thought she was away. Has she returned?” he asked.
She nodded but kept her head bowed, not wanting him to get a good enough look at her face to recognize her later. “The king’s adviser has conspired to keep her from speaking with you, but she wants to meet with you in secret.”
“Conspired? But why? We’ve been here several days, waiting for a chance to speak with the king or queen. I have a message from Lord Ruler Cicoque of Cyprindia. My only mission is to deliver the message.”
Feanna’s excitement threatened to burst through her skin. “What message?”
“It is only for the king or queen. I shall meet with the queen at her convenience. Please tell me when and where to meet her, and we will finally fulfill our mission.”
She quickly ran through the options in her mind. If she arranged another meeting, she’d have to rely on her secret forays staying secret long enough to make her way to a meeting room. She didn’t know how closely he and his barbarian friend were guarded or how much freedom they were granted in the palace. Would he be able to enter one of the conference rooms? It irked her to think they walked freely through the halls of her home when she could not. It would be a risk to arrange a second meeting, especially since she had his attention now. Besides, Gavin was on his way home. If the Cyprindians delivered the message to him, she would never find out what it said.
She stood up straight and met his eyes. “I’m Queen Feanna,” she declared.
He cocked his head and looked her over. “You do not look like a queen.”
“I only dressed as a servant in order to make my way here unimpeded. As I’ve said, Edan Dawnpiper has conspired to keep me from seeing you, and so this subterfuge was the only way I could manage it.”
“Do you have proof of your identity?” he asked. “My message is only for the king or queen. No one else may hear it.”
“Here. Look at my signet ring.” The ring was bulky, but she’d taken to wearing it day and night. Soon, though, her fingers would swell so much, she would have to wear it on a thong around her neck. “If you still don’t believe me, go downstairs and examine the painting in the great hall. My husband and I sat for it shortly after we acquired the throne.”
The visitor took a moment to consider this. “I have seen the painting. You bear a striking resemblance to the woman pictured there.” Then he bowed deeply, one foot behind him, and his arms spread wide. “I offer my most sincere greetings, Queen Feanna of Thendylath. I am Kaoque Ewhirk, Twelfth Emissary to Lord Ruler Cicoque of Cyprindia, and this is my protector, Tokpah Woksu, Warrior Chief of the Eighteenth Battalion of the Cyprindian Force. We are pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Yes, yes. The message, Kaoque E-wit. Give me the bloody message.”
Chapter 37
“Ewhirk,” Kaoque said. There was a look of confusion on his face, as though he didn’t know whether to be offended by the mispronunciation of his name. Not that Feanna cared, but she supposed a queen should take care to get it right.
“I beg your pardon. Ewhirk. Your name sounds foreign to my ear. Now, if you please...”
“Won’t you come in, Queen Feanna?”
To hurry him up, she accepted his invitation and sat on the settee, placing her hands primly on her knees. When he offered her wine, she forced a smile onto her lips. It was all she could do to remain civil while she waited for him to painstakingly pour two glasses, taking care to make them equal in volume. She accepted the glass without thanks and sipped the wine before setting it down. “Now,” she said, taking care to keep her voice friendly and cheerful, “may I see the message?”
“The message is not written, Her Majesty.”
She ignored the blunder of address. “Then may I hear the message now?”
Kaoque glanced at Tokpah, who now stood beside the settee, clutching some kind of pole-arm. He looked down at her angrily, as if she’d done something wrong.
“Very well, Her Majesty,” Kaoque said.
“It’s Your Majesty,” Feanna snapped, unable to tolerate the error any longer, “not Her Majesty. You say Her Majesty if you’re talking about me rather than to me.”
“I humbly beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” Kaoque said. “I was taught your language beginning in my childhood, when my training as emissary began, but some things I am sure we do not know properly. I will correct our texts when I return.”
She uncurled her fingers, realizing she’d balled her hands into fists in frustration. Get on with it. Whatever they had to say, they needed to hurry the hell up and go home. Gavin would hear the message from her when she saw fit to tell him. “Very well. Continue.”
Kaoque tugged the sides of his embroidered shirt to straighten it and stood erect.
“His Eminence the Lord Ruler Cicoque of Cyprindia sends his congratulations for ascending to the throne of Thendylath and hopes that you will prove yourself to be more honorable than the kings who preceded you. His Eminence wishes to resolve the long-neglected dispute between our peoples so that we can begin a new relationship of mutual exchange for the betterment of all. A token of good faith is requested before the next full moon.”
When Kaoque stopped, Feanna raised her eyebrows to prompt him to continue. Instead, Kaoque bowed.
“As Emissary, I am equipped to guide you in selecting a suitable token, one that our Lord Ruler will find pleasing.”
They thought Thendylath owed them something? Feanna certainly wasn’t schooled in history, but whatever had happened between their two countries had to have been hundreds of years ago. “I’ve never known anyone to hold a grudge for an entire lifetime, and here your entire country has held a grudge for what? Two hundred years?”
A pained expression passed over Kaoque’s face. “A grudge? No, Your Majesty. This is far more than a petty grudge. This is a war, one that will not end until Thendylath makes an offering suitable to atone for thousands of lost Cyprindian souls. Since your king fled our shores four hundred years ago, we have been rebuilding our army, reforging our weapons, learning magical ways to protect ourselves from the Demon Lord and his champion.”
“Demon Lord?”
“The epithet earned by King Samuar Beresfard of Thendylath for summoning the demon that slew so many of our people.”
Feanna frowned. “King Samuar? I’ve never even heard of him. Ritol is gone—my husband and I vanquished him. Why would you spend so much effort protecting yourselves from a being that no longer exists in this realm?”
“Death is only temporary. Kings return in new bodies, as do queens and servants and warriors, unless their souls are devoured by a demon like the one you named.”
She laughed. His notion was silly superstition. Everyone knew that when people died, their spirits joined Asti-nayas in the afterlife. Perhaps barbarians like these weren’t sophisticated enough to know about Asti-nayas.
“You find our beliefs amusing?” Kaoque asked, a line between his pinched eyebrows. Poor baby was offended.
“No, no,” she said, waving him off. “Not amusing. I don’t know. Quaint. I mean no insult.”
“I see.”
“What kind of token does your lord ruler want?”
Kaoque smiled broadly. “A virgin would please him immensely and go far to resolve our dispute, but a lock of her hair as a promise would suffice.
”
Her mouth dropped open. “A virgin? He merely wants to bed a young woman from Thendylath? Why not simply offer one a few gold coins? I’m sure if you ask enough of them, you’ll find a volunteer.”
“No, Your Majesty. Not to bed but to receive the Mark of Zuhlys Fahn and become High Spirit Consort. This will forge a permanent, blessed union between our two nations.”
“Oh!” Feanna clapped her hands together in delight. She loved tales of strange lands. “Tell me about this mark. And who or what is Zuhlys Fahn?”
He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Zuhlys Fahn is God’s name. The Mark of Zuhlys Fahn is the greatest honor a woman can receive. If Zuhlys Fahn accepts her, she becomes His wife in spirit, the High Spirit Consort, and her child is touched with His power and becomes our High Spirit Emissary. When he reaches maturity, the Mark of Zuhlys Fahn appears on his body, enabling him to commune with Zuhlys Fahn and our Lord Orator on affairs concerning both nations.”
What a superstitious dolt. God’s name was Asti-nayas. She let the matter drop, certain she wouldn’t convince them differently. “So your god beds her?”
Kaoque chuckled. “No, Your Majesty. Zuhlys Fahn is without a physical body. That is the reason he requires a virgin to take as His wife.”
“I don’t understand. A virgin needs a man to impregnate her. Does He occupy your Lord Ruler’s body to do that?”
“No man besides her lawful husband would presume to touch her in that manner.”
“That makes no sense. Women don’t stay virgins after they’re married.” Unless, she thought, they married someone like her first husband, Henrik, who preferred to take other men to his bed.
Kaoque wrinkled his brow and sat, chewing on his thumbnail or a moment. “Forgive me. I must have used the wrong word. Virgin means a woman bearing her first child, yes?”
Feanna’s heart leapt into her throat. It must have been fate that brought him here to her. The Mark of Zuhlys Fahn is the greatest honor a woman can receive. “No,” she said, her voice coming out in a near whisper. “That’s not what virgin means. We don’t have a word for a woman in her first pregnancy.”
“Oh,” he said. “Forgive the confusion. I will correct our texts for this error as well.”
Excitement vibrated through her body from her toes to the top of her head. She smiled and placed a trembling hand on his forearm. “I’m pregnant with my first child—a prince who’ll be Thendylath’s next king.”
Kaoque leapt to his feet and took a step back. His face was stretched so taut, it nearly snapped in on itself. “You don’t mean to offer yourself, Your Majesty.”
“Indeed I do, Kaoque Ewhirk. My son will be king to my people, High Spirit Emissary to yours.” And she would receive the Cyprindians’ highest honor for herself, High Spirit Consort. Surely becoming a god’s wife would give her higher standing over Gavin, a mere king. He could never again tell her what to do. “What better way to unite our people in peace?”
Kaoque stared at her in disbelief for a moment. “There is none better, but shouldn’t you discuss the matter with the king first?”
“The king isn’t here,” Feanna said, adjusting her skirt over her lap. “I make decisions when he’s away. Now, what token have you brought in exchange?”
Kaoque pressed his palms together and bowed. “I’ve brought you a most marvelous gift, Your Majesty. The Lord Ruler picked it out himself.” He dug into his satchel and pulled out a bundle of burgundy colored cloth with a ribbon tied around it. He presented it with a flourish.
She clapped her hands together in delight. “How lovely!” Taking it, she untied the ribbon and let it fall to the floor, then pulled open the cloth wrapping. Inside was a wooden hoop with string woven around it to form what looked like a spider’s web. A gemstone was suspended in the center, tied in place by a leather setting. “What is this?” she asked, not bothering to mask her disappointment.
“Why, it’s a Soul Ward. My people believe they prevent disease, curses, and nightmares. Our Lord Orator enchanted this one with a magic spell to also enhance fertility so that you and your husband will be blessed with many sons. It is a most prestigious gift.”
What a useless trinket. She tossed it aside. “What else do you have to offer?”
Kaoque looked lost. “The Lord Ruler gave me only that, Your Majesty.”
She stood, outraged. They asked for a pregnant woman to wed to their god, and all they were offering was a symbol of their superstitious nonsense? “This? This is an insult. Your Lord Ruler demands a woman and her unborn child, and all he offers is a bit of wood and some string?”
“Please accept my humble apology, Your Majesty. We meant no offense. If there is something in particular you would like, I will procure it for you.”
She pursed her lips and eyed Tokpah up and down. If he shared her bed while Gavin was away, she wouldn’t mind. “My husband has yet to assign me a permanent champion. I would accept Tokpah.”
Kaoque turned to Tokpah with surprise. “She wants you as her champion. I cannot speak for you.”
One side of Tokpah’s mouth quivered as if towards a smile. His only response was a slow blink.
“He declines, Your Majesty. Have you another desire?”
“I thought he didn’t understand our language.”
“He does not,” Kaoque said. “I possess a magical talent for tongues, however. I can understand and be understood regardless of the language I am speaking or the language I hear.”
That must have been the same talent Gavin had. “Because I’m a patient queen, I’ll give you a day to consider a token that’s more suitable. Should you fail to offer something, I’ll be forced to withdraw my offer and send you home with nothing. We both know what will happen then.”
Neither had to say it, but she was sure they both thought it.
War.
Chapter 38
The gaol was dark and suffocating. Gavin took a minute to let his eyes adjust and to get used to the stench of stale air before following the warden down the gloomy corridor to the end. “I need to use the cell next to Hennah’s,” he said.
“Yes, Sire. I’ll move Anya down the row, and you can use hers.”
Gavin waited while his corrupted guard was moved to another cell. She fought and cursed like an angry cat, and the guards had to beat her nearly unconscious with batons to get her into the other cell. He watched impassionately, knowing he should’ve been excited about the prospect of getting his battlers back but unable to summon the enthusiasm. Without Daia’s mystical conduit, it would be a challenge. Without her support and presence, it would be a chore. His entire life would be a chore, and the prospect of ruling as king without Daia by his side made his entire body ache.
If he never got her ring back, he’d have no way to connect to her from other realms if ever he had the need to travel. She’d have to come with him.
No, she was right. In the kho realms, she’d be in danger. The yellow realm was the mildest of the three kho realms, and they’d nearly killed her. She wouldn’t stand a chance in the orange and red realms.
Unless he somehow disguised or hid the orange flame that was her conduit. If no one knew she had it, she’d be just another battler. The focus would be on him, and she could do her job as his champion while also providing strength to his magic as the conduit. There was no other option.
The warden and three guards were staring at him, waiting.
“King Gavin?” Cirang asked.
“Yeh. I’m ready.” He took and released a deep breath to help shift his thoughts to the present. “The man I’m about to summon has some magic, so call out if he’s hurting you. I don’t want to kill him if I don’t have to, but if the rune works right, he’ll be under my command.”
“All the same,” Daia said, “I’d rather take precautions. Guards, be ready to lock him in the cell.”
After withdrawing the summoning rune, Gavin handed his knapsack to Cirang and drew Aldras Gar. He took a wide stance in the doorway of
the empty cell, ready to step aside so the guards could slam the door shut. With the rune clutched in his right hand and his eyes closed, he focused his mystic vision through his gems. His thoughts cleared, and his breathing slowed. He felt calm and connected to the world and all its seven realms. With one more deep breath, he thought Baron Hexx Gnorglsht, and whispered, “Whemorard.”
A light flashed, splitting the air. It widened by degrees, and in its center was the deepest, most intense blackness Gavin had ever seen. A foot, black as ebony, stepped out of the hole into the real world, followed by a clawed hand and a triangular head with glittering eyes.
Gavin’s heart climbed up his throat. What the hell had he done?
Cirang screamed. The smell of urine and decaying flesh filled the air.
“Oh, my lord!” one of the guards shouted. He made the gesture of subservience to Asti-nayas.
“What the hell is that thing?” another asked.
Ritol, the monster that had tried to kill King Arek and had nearly killed Gavin.
“By Yrys,” Daia breathed. She grabbed Gavin and pulled him back, putting herself in front of him. The door slammed shut, clanging into its frame. The warden and one guard braced their backs against it while another fumbled with the keys, trying frantically to lock the door while the others yelled at him to hurry.
“How can that be?” Gavin asked under his breath. He’d thought the Baron’s name. He’d done the summoning properly.
“Hurry!” Cirang cried. “Get the king to safety.”
Gavin knew he should’ve been terrified. He should’ve pissed himself like Cirang had, but something was different this time. He felt only confusion, not fear. Aldras Gar was silent, its gems dark. It dawned on him then that he was the demon’s summoner. That had to be why Aldras Gar wasn’t warning him of danger. He looked down at the rune in his hand. It must have been only for summoning Ritol. He’d assumed it was for summoning anyone across the boundaries of the realms. Nothing he’d seen or read had warned him this would happen. “Damn it,” he spat. “Guardians, is this rune only for summoning Ritol?”