Any sign of inebriation disappeared as the sharp fall air buffeted the Elf. Normally the climate was pretty even year-round, but this year proved to be different, with a sweltering summer and a cooler than average fall. Everyone knew it, everyone felt it, but no one was courageous enough to say anything. There was a foreboding in events that Kharisi didn’t care for. The weather change had bothered him enough, but with the untimely death of the Queen, things seemed to be even darker strange.
As they approached the castle, Kharisi saw the gate being raised for them. He could feel his gut roiling as if it were filled with spoiled meat and threatened to dislodge itself. They slowed down to a trot and made their way over the wooden bridge into the open-air courtyard that housed the royal stables and blacksmith. Kharisi dismounted, leaving the care of his horse to the barely awake stable hand. He walked briskly ahead of the two guards who, having done their job, sauntered off to a night’s sleep. Straight through the courtyard, and through yet another gate, stood the stone doors of the castle. Dwarves, using their particular knowledge of masonry, had replaced the damaged doors with stone, to prevent easy access that had occurred during the war. They swung in easy though slow and as he entered the castle, he was struck by the eeriness of the quiet. While it was not unusual at this time of the night, Kharisi would at the very least hear the maids moving about, emptying chamber pots, cleaning floors or washing the royal garments in time to be worn in the morning. There was none of that which he could detect. He wandered to the left, and down another long corridor, wound his way to the right into the throne room, and slowly walked up the spiral stairs. And not once did he run into a servant or hear anything but the soft tapping of his leather boots on the stone floor.
He paused outside Saerus’ door and knocked on it lightly with a gloved hand. There was no reply, so he knocked again, a little louder this time. When there was still no response, he touched the door, and it opened on its own accord.
Through the crack, he saw the soon to be King standing at the window, pleasuring himself. Kharisi’s face turned red and tried to look away even as his own leggings tightened. He opened the door enough to slip in, closed it behind him and gave a fake cough.
Saerus turned, hands still between his legs and without a shred of embarrassment, looked Kharisi in the eye. “Good to see you,” he said.
“Apparently so,” he replied. Saerus gave a small laugh and proceeded to put on his nightclothes. “Not as if you haven’t seen that before,” Saerus said.
Blood drained from Kharisi’s face and he said nothing. He continued to watch as the young man went back to the window and sat in the chair under it. He motioned Kharisi to the other chair, which the elf took, trying to avert the gaze he felt burning in him. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about, not now anyway.” Kharisi relaxed a little. “Where were you this eve?”
Kharisi looked down at the floor. “At the Dancing Rooster. Twas my night away from the castle.”
“In spite of the fact the Queen was on her deathbed? You chose to see to your needs before all else?”
“Saerus, I...”
“I will be King before the day is out, best get used to addressing me as Your Highness.”
Kharisi looked at him, shame being replaced with anger. “Listen here, you petulant brat, who do you think you’re talking to?”
Saerus laughed long and hard. “A drunken elf with more sperm than sense.”
“Okay, I admit I may have deserved that. I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I had no idea her health was that bad. And my condolences, you know how much your mother meant to me.”
Saerus looked away, feeling tears well in his eyes. He tried to speak and could say nothing. Grief had taken the words from his mouth as robins pluck worms from the morning grass. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his nightshirt and waited until he found his voice once again. Sensing his grief, Kharisi allowed the silence despite the fact he was getting drowsy, as the final effects of the mead wore off.
“I’m at your disposal, now and always,” he told Saerus. The words sounded as hollow to Saerus as they did to Kharisi as he said them. His intent was true, but Kharisi knew himself better than to say anything like that. Being that loyal was foreign to him.
“You mean well, I know this, but they are words-easy to say, not so easy to act upon. But I will need you, Kharisi. I need you at the castle. I cannot have you at the tavern anymore. I can’t have you laying with the whores and degenerates.”
“Why?” Kharisi asked, lips pursed, ears drooping a bit.
“I need you as my personal bodyguard. You are one of a handful of people I can trust and I know your heart.”
“You know my heart and still ask this of me?”
“It’s because of it, I asked you. I know you won’t hesitate if there’s someone who tries to assassinate me, especially if they’re within the castle.”
Kharisi pondered this, a bit taken aback. He’d been known as many things in his life and had been called even more things, some of them even true, but he never thought of himself as a heartless killer. He understood his nature and thought Saerus was perhaps cutting him short. Still, he would be King in a matter of hours and who was he to argue. “My life is yours,” Kharisi said, solemn as an oath.
Saerus smiled. “Thank you. And there will be one thing I require you do for me. A matter of import to myself and your discretion needs to be maintained at all times.”
“Of course,” Kharisi answered, slightly puzzled. “What do you wish of me?”
Saerus stood, the sheer nightgown showing his thin frame from the light the candles threw off. It was hard not to notice his double appendage, but there were also other bumps as well.
Saerus took a candle from the table and handed it to Kharisi, then started to pull his clothing up and over his head. “Look well.”
Kharisi moved the candle closer to the new King’s body, and tried to contain his shock. It wasn’t just the two plows as he’d seen on other occasions, there were now partial fingers, no more than a first knuckle protruding from his stomach, and what looked almost to be facial features upon his chest. The elf looked up at Saerus, but his blue eyes were closed, no doubt to avoid the expression Kharisi currently had on his face. He reached out with one hand and touched one of the digits, really no bigger than a half a pinky nail, and it reacted to the sensation. Kharisi moved back in his chair, unable to help himself. “By the Gods, Saerus!”
“There is a Druid of Legend and some repute who is said to dwell on the border to the Scorched Wastes. It’s also said, he possesses magic unknown even to the Crones and mages. I would have you seek him and bring him to the castle by any means necessary.”
“And how do you expect me to do that if he has that power? Anyone who lives near the edge must value solitude.”
“That’s why I’m sending you. If anyone can get him here, it’s you.”
Kharisi bowed his head, stood up and placed his hands on his future King’s shoulders. “Your will be done, my King.” He then leaned down to kiss the top of Saerus’ head. “I need to know, when did this start showing? Do they hurt, or incapacitate you in any way?’
Saerus shook his head, and said, “No. Not yet anyway.”
“Who else knows?”
“No one Kharisi, not even my mother knew. I... I kept it from her. It was too much. Bad enough she would talk about my two my pricks, but this is... I couldn’t. I feel monster enough at times and didn’t want to turn her away.” Kharisi caught a gleam of a tear in his eye, and he pulled the young man to him, hugging him as best he could.
“Your Mother was a good woman, and she would not have turned her back to you. Nor will I. When do you want me to leave?”
“In a week’s time. After the funeral and coronation and things calm down. I’ll need you near me during all this. You and Petram both.
At the mention of Petram’s name, Kharisi broke away. “The bald dwarf?”
“He’s not bald, he just has no beard. You’d best t
ry to get along with him as you’ll be seeing a lot of him.”
Kharisi held his tongue, though the last thing he felt was speechless.
“Come see me for breakfast, we have other matters to discuss.” Saerus turned away from Kharisi, bent down to pick up his nightwear, and slipped it on again. Kharisi tried not to stare but couldn’t help himself. “In fact, I know how much you dislike mornings, so perhaps you should take your slumber here. The bed is big enough for four, let alone two.” He hopped onto the bed, grabbed a pillow and threw it at the elf. Kharisi caught it and threw it back, then began to undress.
“As I said, my life is yours, mind and body. Especially body.,” Kharisi replied, getting into the bed.
As the moon started to move away, and the sun revolved to take its place, neither of the sated men noticed the secret entrance open.
4: Da’Nel of ThrockMorton
Kharisi could have laid in that magnificent bed all day, and would have, were it not for the constant kicking from a fitful bedmate. Kharisi had fallen asleep almost immediately after satisfying himself and Saerus, then fallen into a deep slumber.
The same couldn’t be said for Saerus whose feet constantly found new areas to create bruises on Kharisi’s lower torso. The only time he didn’t seem to be thrashing in the sheet draped over his body, were the times when he got out of bed. Kharisi knew once was to fill a chamberpot, as he was familiar with the sound of a stream hitting an empty metal pot. The other time he thought he heard Saerus talking to someone, maybe himself, but couldn’t be sure. When Kharisi was finally shaken awake as the sun’s first light began to dance on the floor and creep up the bed, he’d forgotten all about it and was more concerned about the aches and pains.
“Up, up, up!” Saerus said. “Get dressed and go down to the dining hall. Try not to let anyone see you on the way down!”
Kharisi gathered up his clothes and dressed as quickly as he could, his fingers fumbling with the buttons. As he was getting ready to open the door, he heard footsteps coming up the stairwell. Panicked, he stood behind the door where it was hinged to the wall.
There was a knock at the door, Saerus, put a slim finger against his red lips, motioning for Kharisi to be quiet. Saerus went to the door, opened it enough to stick his head out to send away whoever it was. “Petram? I thought I said to join me downstairs.”
“You did but thought I would take the time to escort you downstairs. You can’t be too careful,” the dwarf said.
Saerus gave a very fake laugh. “I’ve not tripped over my own feet in a long while, I think I can manage. I need to get dressed and will be down in a moment.
“You’re sure, Your Highness? I don’t mind waiting outside until you’re ready.”
“I am very sure, and appreciate the thought, but I need you to make sure no one sits at the side of my seat aside from you and Kharisi.”
“That drunken, lecherous elf? Why would you want him anywhere near your table?”
“You will not talk about him that way Petram, and you best deal with your problems, as you’ll be seeing a lot of him.”
Petram let out a sigh. “I’ve seen too much of him already, do you know I once saw him buggering the stable boy? In daylight? Had to throw a bucket of water on ‘em like he was a bitch in heat.”
Saerus tapped his slippered foot. “Are you done Petram?”
“Yes,” the dwarf said quietly and skulked away without another word. Saerus shut the door and giggled at how red Kharisi’s face was.
“The stable boy? Really?”
“Better him than the horse, wouldn’t you say?”
“Barely.”
Kharisi bit his tongue, went to the door, peeked as he opened it and slipped out.
Saerus rolled his eyes and continued dressing.
Kharisi arrived at the dining table not long after Petram, and this was even after he’d made a stop to pee out a window. He took a seat next to the King’s chair and poured himself some hot spiced cider. He looked to his right, caught Petram’s eye and gave a wan smile. “Petram,” he said not so much as a greeting but as a weary acknowledgment of his presence.
“Elf,” Petram replied before turning away.
“Nice close shave, you almost look... human.” Kharisi couldn’t contain himself and laughed at his own joke. Petram’s skin turned a slight shade of pink as his anger began to boil.
“You watch your damned mouth or I’ll send you to the Isle of Spirits before that degenerate body of yours hits the floor.”
“Oh, is that so? No doubt I’d fall much further than you would. Which reminds me, I saw some pillows earlier, would you like me to fetch them, so you can sit on them to see above the table?”
Petram rose from his chair, hands curled into fists and lunged for Kharisi. Surprised by the unexpected attack, Kharisi fell back in his chair, then toppled to the ground with an angry dwarf on his chest, a small hatchet at the nape of his neck. “I warned you! I warned you, you damned elf! Now take your punishment!”
“Enough!” A voice boomed and echoed through the room. Petram and Kharisi looked up and saw the face of Saerus filled with rage at them. The dwarf got off Kharisi’s chest, gave a mumbled apology and went to his seat. Kharisi righted his chair and sat back down and said not a word. “Absolutely disgusting the both of you! I should have you flogged in public for your immaturity. If neither of you can behave and get along, then you can get out of my castle, my country, my kingdom right now and never return. Do I make myself clear?” Both were stunned. Neither had ever heard Saerus shout like that or become so angry. They both mumbled, but Saerus wasn’t satisfied. “I cannot hear you! Speak as if you have the balls of a man and not a bitch.”
“My apologies Your Highness, I goaded him into it, ‘tis my fault.”
Saerus shook his head. “I should have known. For that, you will pay Petram 50 gold as recompense for your ill-treatment of him.”
“But Your Highness!”
“100 gold! Anything else to say before I raise the amount again?”
Kharisi shook his head no and sipped his drink.
The rest of the morning’s meal was spent in relative silence, with Kharisi feigning good humor, despite the whirlwind of grief and anger barreling through his emotions. Petram looked straight ahead or down at his plate, barely acknowledging or answering any questions, as a plate of meats, eggs, and assorted cheeses along with bread came in a never-ending supply. Thick black blankets were being hung over the windows as well as any paintings or sculptures of not just the Queen but all the former Royalty as was tradition. Upon occasion, Saerus would lean over to Petram or Kharisi and whisper in their ears, and the Elf only gave the most begrudging of replies.
He speared a sausage and felt his pearl white teeth puncture the crisp, brown skin, savored the spicy taste, and washed it down with the cooling cider. Despite having an aversion to morning hours, Kharisi never tired of having that first meal, as it had always been one of his favorites. As his stomach began to fill, his eyelids began to droop. Saerus gave him a gentle nudge in the ribs to wake him up. Petram looked over and made an exasperated face, shaking his head in disgust. As the meal wound down, various court officials took their leave as they prepared for the funeral that day.
It soon passed that the only ones left at the table were the King and his two protectors, with a servant standing by to meet any needs they might have. Saerus ignored the sour moods of his friends and leaned back in his chair, lifted a leg and let out a prolonged fart that bore quite the aroma.
Kharisi covered his mouth and nose with a worn handkerchief he kept in a pocket of his shirt. “Nice one Your Highness. Developing a new weapon?”
Saerus laughed like a little boy, and in many ways he was, something Kharisi had to remind himself from time to time. Petram pretended to remain unphased, though, from the watering eyes, it was apparent the fumes had gotten to him as well. “Come, walk with me in the gardens. The help may try to put a cork up my hindquarters if I’m held in here too long.”<
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“Yes, yes, much better to wilt the flowers,” Kharisi said smiling. All three stood, with Petram taking the lead, Saerus behind the dwarf, and Kharisi behind the both of them. None said much as they meandered through the bottom floor of the castle and wandered to the garden in the back. The garden was in a circular shape with different flowers creating rings within it and in the middle a faded wooden gazebo with a bench and table. The Queen would come out here when the weather was appropriate and sit amongst the flowers she handpicked for her mini-retreat from the hustle and bustle of the castle. Bees flew their lazy circuitous routes amongst them, as the three men wound their way to the middle, and sat on the benches, while Saerus occupied a plain chair with an even plainer cushion.
“I am depending on the two of you, and I will not tolerate the churlish behavior on display this morning. You embarrassed me, and not only that, are going to make some question my abilities to keep you two so close. I care not for your explanations, I care that you stop it now. Right here. You’re here at my bidding for your friendship yes, but also your abilities. Do not make me regret it, or you both will be the ones to pay the price. Are we all clear and in agreement?”
“Yes Your Highness,” they both replied in unison in the same detached voice.
“Good. Petram, I am sending Kharisi on business for me come a week from now, but before that, I have some business for you to attend to.”
“Of course.”
“You’ve heard the stories about Da’Nel of ThrockMorton, the Druid of legendary power?”
“Well, when I was a boy my Dad would tell me stories of his adventures, but I thought he was just a tale that was told.”
Errors of the Flesh Page 3