Death by Derby

by Abigail Keam

  Two hours later, the driver stopped in front of an expensive chain hotel. “This okay, lady?”

  Eva looked out the car window and nodded. “It will do for now.” She paid the driver the exorbitant fare plus a two hundred dollar tip.

  Eva looked out the car window and nodded. “It will do for now.” She paid the driver the exorbitant fare plus a two hundred dollar tip.

  He no longer thought Eva was crazy, but merely eccentric. Rich people were never crazy, just different. She would make a great story for his family over dinner.

  Eva motioned for the hotel valet to open the cab door and help with various packages.

  She had stopped at a mall on the way and had purchased some casual outfits. As soon as she stepped out of the cab, the silky breezes of the Keys enveloped her.

  Eva took a deep breath.

  The salty air smelled like home.

  She felt the pain in her broken heart dull a little.

  Eva no longer felt that she was going to die.

  Perhaps with a little luck, she just might recover . . . even flourish.

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  Prologue

  Queen Abisola and her consort, Iasos, sat numbly by the fire.

  The shadow of the flames danced on Abisola’s troubled face, eerily reflecting in her worried eyes.

  She was dressed in a foot soldier’s battle attire, her long dark hair braided and tucked down the back of her tunic. The Queen wore no insignias of any kind to note her rank. She waited, deep in thought, wondering how her life could have come to such a pass. She waited and waited, this being the fourth day and night of waiting.

  Her Consort, Iasos, gently rocked the baby he held, cooing if the girl child stirred. This was the child he had sired with his Queen. As Iasos gazed at his child, he did not wonder at the events he knew were to come, but at his luck at having been chosen as Royal Consort. It was more than luck. The stars had decreed it to be his fate, for he truly loved his lady and had since the day he first met her.

  Iasos had been sent by his father, Duke Enos, to further his education at the university in O Konya, the royal city. As he was of noble blood and his older sister was soon to inherit the Duchy of Enos from their father, the boy was entitled to live at court during his stay in the city.

  Duke Enos wanted his only son to make a grand impression at the royal court. Knowing the Queen was fond of beautiful clothes, he gave his son shimmering cloth made by the nimble hands of the desert men of Siva as a gift to the monarch.

  A nervous Iasos presented bolts of turquoise, iridescent white, and gold with river pearls for fringe. They had cost his father a year’s profit from the duchy, so rare were they.

  “These are from my father, Duke Enos,” boasted young Iasos, waving his hand over the expensive bolts, “but this is from me.” The handsome boy took a slim volume from his breast pocket.

  The Queen’s personal guards suddenly surrounded him.

  “Oh, dear,” he piped, as he handed the Queen’s Consul the book.

  After inspecting the volume, the Consul placed it on a gold platter and handed it to the amused but wary Queen.

  “I composed these poems myself in honor of our most beautiful and illustrious Queen.”

  “You honor me,” responded Queen Abisola. “I will certainly entertain your poems before I retire tonight. I hope I do them justice.”

  “You are most kind, Your Majesty,” answered Iasos flushing. He bowed very low and the Consul waved him back into the court audience.

  Queen Abisola spent the rest of the afternoon meeting with impatient ambassadors, fawning nobility, wealthy merchants seeking charters, anxious artists needing patrons and weary messengers from the far-off corners of her vast country.

  As she listened to the speeches and announcements drone on, she occasionally glanced at Iasos, who stared sheepishly up at her. Something about him pleased her very much.

  She gestured to her Consul, Rubank. “I want Duke Enos and his family investigated. Find out everything there is to know, but do it discreetly.”

  Her Consul nodded in reply, such was the custom as he could not speak – his tongue having had been cut out voluntarily when he became Consul to the Queen.

  The Queen stood and left the throne room without glancing back, but she was smiling. She was still smiling when she entered her private quarters. Handing her crown, jewelry, and official robes to her maids, she quickly stripped and laid down on a table for her massage.

  A woman in her late autumn years entered the room with a basket of herbs and oils. After selecting perfumed oil, she heated it by rubbing it between her hands and began massaging Abisola’s shoulders and back. “You seem pleased tonight, Your Majesty. The cats seem almost at rest.”

  The masseuse was referring to the two tattooed jungle cats facing each other on either side of the Queen’s back starting at her shoulders and extending down the back to the buttocks. They looked as though they were springing in mid-flight with their extended paws crisscrossing each other. Inside the figures of the cats were ancient symbols and words.

  The cats, called uultepes, were the personal mascots of the Hasan Daegian royalty. By modern times, however, the great cats had been hunted to extinction. Many believed that the cats had existed in myth only. But still the images of two springing uultepes were tattooed on every Hasan Daegian Queen or King as dictated by tradition, the meaning of which no one could fathom any longer.

  Abisola murmured, “Sari, do you believe in love at first sight?”

  “No, Mother (a title of respect for women of rank and the Queen), can’t say that I do.”

  “Then do you believe in lust at first sight?”

  “Aye, that I can attest to. I fell under the spell of a fat miserable cook, and him with a nightmare of a wife and three grubby babes. But oh how that man could cook and make love after stuffing me with roasted eggs in a spinach base and hackleberry wine. No man has fed me so well since.” Sari paused, remembering.

  “What happened to him?”

  Sari poured more oil in her hands and stood thoughtfully. “His wife found out about us and kept whacking him on the head, so he told me I had to go. He wanted me to be safe from that harridan of a wife.”

  “Hmm, by the Goddess, that feels good. Lower. Are you talking about Grebbe; the cook that died about forty years ago? He was found face down in a yoko root pudding.”

  “The very one.”

  “Sari, you didn’t kill him?” gasped the Queen, hiding her mirth.

  “No, my Queen! It was his heart. All that weight.”

  Abisola patted Sari’s arm. “I’m just teasing, Sari.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re right. He was a wonderful cook. Too bad he died. Hmmm, that feels wonderful,” murmured Queen Abisola, drifting off. “Sari, you are such a liar. What would a royal cousin being doing with a mere cook?” she mumbled sleepily.

  “Your Majesty, has someone caught your eye?”

  Queen Abisola didn’t respond, as she was fast asleep.

  Sari smiled to herself. “I will answer you now that you cannot hear me. He loved me even though I was royalty. Such is a rare commodity in life.”

  Iasos did not soon see his Queen, for it was another three weeks before she sent for him. In her small private audience chamber, she told him she desired him and wished permission to court him if he so desired. Iasos sighed with relief, for now he knew why he was being watched all of the time. He stammered, “Uhmmm, yes.”

  Abisola reached over and kissed his hand.

  Iasos returned the hand kiss. The Queen then handed him a flower and the courtship officially began. He was a lad of twenty and she had been the ruling monarch for over three hundred years.

  *

  That had been three years ago. Now Iasos looked down at his child.

  She was the color of a dark sea blue from the top of her royal crown to the bottom of her chubby royal heels. A d
ark indigo baby! She even cried blue tears. All royal Hasan Daegian babies were born blue and lightened to a bluish-white cast, as they grew older.

  As old as Abisola was, she still retained a bluish cast to her nails, the outlines of her eyes and her sex. Their blue blood was a sign of the royal family’s predestination to rule Hasan Daeg.

  Iasos nuzzled the baby’s cheek. The tension of waiting was beginning to strain his nerves. He was alone with his Queen, having dismissed the servants. The guards were positioned down the mountain and ordered not to intrude no matter what they heard until the Queen descended. The royal couple realized that if anything went wrong, there would be no one to help them.

  “Do you think she will come tonight?” asked Iasos, impatiently.

  There was no reply from his downcast wife.

  “Abisola,” he insisted.

  Abisola jerked her head up. “Shh, listen!” She jumped up and strained to hear the sounds in the night.

  Iasos strained too, turning his head. There was a faint whooshing sound coming from the east. He dreaded the moment that would soon be at hand.

  “She comes!” cried Abisola, jumping in front of Iasos and her child.

  Their tent quivered in the loud and fearsome wake. Sticks and twigs, as well as their food and gear scattered about the ground. A great cloud of dust flooded the air, making it hard for the royal couple to see.

  A sharp cry pierced the sky. It was the cry of the great eagle as she snares her prey.

  It was the last few moments of dusk as the sun waned in the dark turquoise sky.

  Both mother and father of the babe stood rooted, seemingly unable to move.

  “Queen Abisola and Prince Iasos, come forth!” cried a loud and unnatural voice. A series of loud clicks followed.

  Abisola looked questioningly at Iasos.

  He nodded.

  She tucked a dagger inside her tunic. Looking about, Abisola then motioned for her husband to join her.

  On a small knob not far from their camp, three figures stood silhouetted against the darkening sky with their wings occasionally fluttering. Large these creatures were, just as the old stories stated.

  Iasos shuddered to think he was going to hand his daughter over to the Dinii, Overlords of Kaseri, a race that had become myth to his people.

  The largest of the figures beckoned impatiently. “Hurry, there’s not much time!”

  Abisola and Iasos trudged silently to the hill.

  The baby had been given a mild sedative so she would not cry during the transfer.

  Abisola wished she had taken some of it herself.

  Iasos could not feel his limbs move as he followed Abisola. He wondered how his wife could be so calm. He felt he would explode at any moment and wished he had learned how to fight. Finally, they stood before the mighty avian emissaries.

  “Empress Gitar,” addressed Abisola as she bowed.

  Iasos too bowed as low as he could with the baby.

  “Queen Abisola and her Consort,” replied Empress Gitar, her wings expanding in acknowledgment and honor. “I wish we could meet at a more joyful occasion.” She pointed to her two companions. “This is my Commander, Yesemek.”

  Yesemek pulled off her plumed leather helmet and made obeisance to Queen Abisola.

  Queen Abisola nodded.

  “And this,” announced Empress Gitar, “is my Divigi and Great Uncle, Iegani.”

  Iegani stepped away from his Empress and the Commander, expanding his wings to their full breadth and bowed as low as his old bones would allow.

  Queen Abisola heard him in her mind, “Salutations, Queen Abisola, Great Mother and Protector of Hasan Daeg.”

  The Hasan Daegian Queen glanced at Prince Iasos. She could tell from his wide-eyed expression that his mind had heard the Divigi too. She nodded to Iegani and then turned her attention to Empress Gitar.

  Gitar was an amazing presence. She stood over eight feet tall with a wingspan of fifteen. She was larger than her subjects by a head. Little downy black feathers covered her body, which resembled a Hasan Daegian’s. The feathers on her head were white and the tips were dyed purple. All the rest of her feathers sparkled where diamond dust had been sprinkled. Her hands and feet were covered by a dark leathery-looking skin. All her nails were dyed purple. This same shade of purple was used on her lips as well. She wore no clothes except for a V-shaped crown studded with multi-colored gems.

  Abisola could see six nipples protruding from the feathers on her torso. She realized that Gitar must have recently given birth herself. That’s why the Overlords had kept them waiting four days.

  Iasos must have realized this too, for he prodded Abisola. “Empress.” He stepped forward with the Royal Princess.

  Abisola pulled him back and turned angrily to Gitar. “How do we know what you say is true?” she hissed.

  Gitar held out her hands in supplication, understanding Abisola’s indecision and anxiety.

  Iegani, the Divigi, spoke aloud. “My good Queen, our spies tell us the same as yours. The enemy to the east makes ready to move on us. Not today, not tomorrow, not next year even, but they will come as sure as it rains upon the land. They will come before our deaths, before yours. Unless we move now and plan for the future, we will never be able to defeat them. Their armies will become too powerful, their magic makers too knowledgeable. You know this to be true. You’ve been getting reports for years.”

  Abisola blinked in confusion.

  Yesemek clicked a message with her teeth to her ruler.

  Gitar nodded.

  Yesemek bowed, dropped her weapons on the ground and stepped closer to Queen Abisola. “Your Majesty, if this were not true, why have you been sending out parties searching for the Mother Bogazkoy? It is because the Royal Bogazkoy, her offspring, is dying. It will cease to exist within forty years. Even now you grow old as it can no longer sustain the Hasan Daegian queens as it once did.”

  Abisola rattled, asked, “You know about the Royal Bogazkoy?”

  “We gave an offshoot of the Mother Bogazkoy to the first Queen of Hasan Daeg to bind our pact,” replied Iegani.

  “Do you know where the Mother resides?” asked Abisola hopefully.

  Iegani shook his head. “That secret was not handed down. I’m sorry.”

  It was true that the Royal Bogazkoy was slowly dying, almost imperceptibly, but dying still.

  Abisola’s grandmother had first discovered the awful truth when she plucked out her first gray hair at the age of two hundred. No ruler of Hasan Daeg had ever aged before until released from ruling and from the Bogazkoy’s powers.

  “What can my child do about an unnamed enemy or the death of the Royal Bogazkoy? She’s only a babe. Not even weaned,” cried the desperate Queen.

  Empress Gitar spoke to her. “She will not be a babe always. Our military is more modern than yours. We plan to teach her the way of the sword. Your countrymen have not fought a battle in over six hundred years. She will need to fight and to motivate others to fight. We will need her in order to win or we shall all perish!”

  Gitar continued. “Over two thousand years ago our people together made the pact. We allowed your people to settle in our kingdom in return for cultivation of the land. We needed beings to manage the land so it would attract the game needed to sustain us. In return, you would recognize our sovereignty.

  “We are creatures of the air, not of the land. We are not farmers, but warriors. You cultivate the land and manage the forest, and we live off the animals this attracts. As we are creatures of the night, your people rarely see us. Most do not even believe we exist now.”

  Gitar sighed. She was fatigued from the long flight and wanted to sit down.

  She clicked at Yesemek. The Commander continued for the Empress. “We hunt outside these borders and we have seen first hand the destruction of the enemy. Their leader moves at random with no other purpose but to plunder and burn in order to terrorize the population into submission. He is gathering a confederation of states control
led by his men that has become the bulwark for an empire. He is unstoppable, a great military mind who rarely shows mercy.”

  “This enemy, who is he?” asked Iasos.

  “He is from the country of Bhuttan. He is called the Aga and his name is Zoar. His followers believe him to have a religious destiny to rule. They worship him as the incarnate of Bhuttu, their god of destruction.

  “We have only the basic facts about him and his people’s beliefs. We do know they believe in a myth in which Bhuttu destroys the present world and joins with his Mother, Bhutta, giving birth to a new world. Zoar’s people believe that he is the physical reincarnate of the male god, Bhuttu.”

  “What has this god Bhuttu to do with us?” inquired Iasos.

  Iegani straightened his shoulders, tired from the weight of his ponderous iridescent wings. “The Hasan Daegian culture has all the qualities of Bhuttanian’s goddess, Bhutta. Bhutta is the Great Mother, who rejuvenates and restores the new world.

  “Like Bhutta, your culture stresses rejuvenation and health with the plants you cultivate. You rarely eat meat. There is little death except with extreme age.

  “Your bloodlines are through the female. Hasan Daegian queens are long-lived. They have the power to restore and heal. They are referred to as Mother and Protector. Even though the Royal Bogazkoy is dying, it is still very powerful. You are proof of that as you have lived many years and can heal. You, my Queen, have a secret that the Aga will want one day–long life. Zoar will seek to possess the tree.”

  Iegani looked at the baby. “And he will come for her because through the Princess, Zoar will aim to control the Royal Bogazkoy.

  “I have just enough years left to teach her the way of the mystic. She will need many mental disciplines to accomplish what she has to do.”

  Iasos shuddered and clutched his baby closer.

  “What is she to do?” asked Queen Abisola, quaking with dread.

  Iegani looked into the Queen’s tearful eyes. “She must destroy the Aga.”

  “Oh, great Divigi, tell me. Can you foresee whether she succeeds?”