Crossroads with Half the Information
Page 3
A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts.
“There is an issue with the birthday cake, something about the decorations not being the way you said they will be delivered”, said a voice she knew by phone as the one of Mrs. Smith, the party planner. “When will you be down?”
The woman did sound a bit impatient. Thanks to Isabella insisting of ordering the decoration from the North, instead of using what the booked bakery would provide.
Isabella checked the watch on her nightstand. It was nearly noon. She had wasted the whole morning.
“Coming. I will just need a few minutes”, shouted Isabella, pushed the ring on her left hand ring finger and threw her blanket aside.
Isabella wouldn’t let the signet ring with the griffin and her memory get lost again.
Byrid stood in the middle of his room. He stared at the map of the world. War was everywhere. Peace wasn’t in sight. No matter where he turned, everyone was afraid of them and wanted to kill all griffin shifters. In essence that meant, killing all members of the royal family, extended family included.
They didn’t understand, that without them, the world would die. The magic that ran in their lineage was the source of life. If there were no more griffins to feed the energy source of the world, there would be no more life.
A fact the priests of the false Gods denied.
Byrid stomped on the stone floor in frustration.
They taught the masses about prayers and offerings. Totally useless stuff. None of those had changed anything since the harvests had turned bad a decade ago. Millions starved, and he hadn’t been able to help.
As a griffin he didn’t need the harvest of the humans. He just drank the water from the rivers and ate the ore from the mountains, taking on the color of the metals inside. His parents, official rulers of this world, did the same. But his mother had insisted that he married.
“The girl you gave your ring must return.” She told him daily. For nearly a decade now. “Your marriage will refill the energy sources and rich harvests will return.”
Bad thing, she didn’t tell him, how he could make the girl come back.
Byrid remembered proud Elizabeth who had appeared out of nowhere about ten years ago. She had been equally tall as he himself, when he donned the human shape he currently wore. He needed to get comfortable in it to walk among the humans and find another way to help.
Her hair had been as dark red as the copper he liked to eat most. Leaned against his griffin body, that was mostly dark red, her hair had blended together with his fur. Only her pale face had stood out. He had discovered the world with her that summer, and when his mother first started talking of heirs and marriage, he had gifted her with his signet ring. The day before the wedding she had vanished like she had appeared: Into thin air.
He had wanted to search the world. Turn each of the stones upside down.
And he did.
After the great storm that had followed her leave had ceased.
All the stones had been turned. Together with the fields that should have been harvested soon. That year was the start of the famine. Corn hardly grew. Trees only had a few fruits. Priests of multiple new Gods had appeared.
Sometimes he wondered if they were from the same origin Elizabeth had been. Some of the words they used sounded similar. But so far, he wasn’t good enough in his human shape that any of those priests had talked to him more than a few sentences before unmasking him.
A stream of wind brushed over him. Wings beat into the air in front of the huge window of his room. Instead of landing on the balcony and coming in his mother merely said:
“Your bride arrived.”
She turned around and left.
Byrid stared into nothingness. He knew there were mountains in front of his open window, but he didn’t see them. Instead, he saw Elizabeth. The woman he had given his ring.
Elizabeth came back? Did that mean the end of the famines, like his mother said for so long?
He didn’t want to marry her. She was a fine woman, but he wasn’t in love with her.
Additionally, he knew she had been pregnant when she had arrived for the first time. She even told him she was already married to a man. One he would never have met. Did he die? Why did she come back? Why did she accept his ring in the first place? Didn’t she know she could return to her world? Or did she not respect his world enough? So many questions he hadn't asked her back then.
He needed to ask her. Now he got his chance.
Byrid ran across the stone floor, out on the balcony and jumped off the handrail. Mid-air he changed and beat his wings.
The wind blew through his fur. Wonderful. He loved it, when the wind streamed along his body. Despite loving the feeling, he beat his wings to gain height and reach the tip of the mountain with the little cave.
His mother already waited for him, together with his father. They hovered in front of the little cave, up high in the mountains, where he first found Elizabeth.
“Go first, my son”, said his father, as if he was only here as a witness and not personally involved. “She’s your bride.”
Byrid nodded and flew past his parents.
The griffins, who were stationed as guards, already left.
Byrid landed gracefully on the rocky balcony before the small cave.
He remembered how he first came here. He was flying and circling in the air, letting the thermal updraft raise him up, so he could float with the wind. His favorite pastime during that summer. One he had stopped doing ever since. He hated being observed. And the guards at the cave made sure there were always eyes watching up here. Sure there were other mountains in the world. But they were farther away and not as beautiful as these.
He had smelled something that didn’t belong to the cool, fresh air up here. Searching for the source he found the rocky balcony as if it was made for a griffin to land: A wide half-circle, large enough and cut solidly into the rock, to safely hold a lot of weight.
Now, feeling the rocks under his claws again, he did wonder again who created that balcony. He had researched in their library and found no hint of the cave, the balcony or suddenly appearing women.
Byrids claws clacked on the raw stone. A few small pebbles rolled aside. He changed and walked the three or four steps that were possible, into the cave.
Behind him, he heard his parents land. They stayed outside. They hated changing. Instead, they peeked inside.
He could see her lying on the floor. Her clothes were so thin, he could practically see through them if his parents would stop blocking the sunlight from falling in. Her copper red hair curled openly around her head, instead of being braided into the two neat braids he remembered. She seemed younger than last time.
Byrid sniffed the air.
She smelt similar, but different. The scent of a second life was missing. Therefore, this time she wasn’t pregnant.
There was something else that was different in her scent.
He leaned closer and sniffed again. There clearly was the scent of Elizabeth, but there was something else, that was sweeter and softer. Something that tugged at his heart and made his chest ache. A reaction the scent of Elizabeth never caused.
What had happened? Was it the lack of the second life? Or the time? Or the fact, that she wore his ring. On her index finger. The ring was the only source of light in the cave, thanks to his parents blocking the entrance with their heads and wide crests.
Byrid looked at his hexagon ring. It glowed brightly red on her index finger. The place his wife would wear it.
Why did she change its place?
He thought back to the day, he gave her his ring.
Laughing, dancing, not listening to him, in his opinion, Elizabeth had held out the ring, so the sun could sparkle on it, then hung it onto a keyring that always hung from her belt. She had promised to keep his key safe. A strange answer to his marriage proposal and the last words he heard from her. A guard had called him to join his parents in court to clear a com
plaint raised against him. He had left his room and dancing Elizabeth behind. When he returned later to get her for the quickly organized wedding ceremony, she had been gone.
He leaned down. “Elizabeth? Are you hurt?”
She didn’t move nor answer.
He looked her over. The woman was as tall as Elizabeth, but there were more differences than similarities. The belt and the keyring were missing.
“She’ll wake up”, said his mother sounding sure.
“She’s different from last time”, said Byrid.
“Did you expect she didn’t age?”, asked his mother back.
He kept his mouth shut. His mother had never been happy with the mystery around Elizabeth, much less with his plans of marrying her. He couldn’t even remember why he had wanted to do so.
Looking at the immobile woman in front of him, it was her he wanted to marry and get children with. As soon as he found out what was different.
Byrid sat down next to her head. He had time to wait. Hopefully he was right, and the woman was not Elizabeth. Yet, if not, why did she wear his signet ring?
Where was the carpet?
Isabelle fell and fell and fell. Or did she fly up? She couldn’t say for sure. Maybe she didn’t move at all and her surrounding moved?
What had happened?
Her bed wasn’t that high, that she usually fell out of it. Like her mother, she was tall. She could swing her feet out of her bed, put them on the fluffy carpet and still sit comfortably on the mattress. What was wrong today?
Besides, everything around her was covered with her canopy. Blackness, filled with golden, sparkling stars. Stars her mother taught her to embroider before everything. Originally the work should become a present. For whom she never learned or forgot and didn’t know how to find out. Another missing puzzle piece that always tugged at her mind.
Did her bed, however unlikely it was, break down? But then she should have been hit by the metal frame holding the canopy in place.
Isabelle didn’t feel hurt.
She looked around. There was no light coming from around her, that lit up the stars.
Foreign voices interrupted her thoughts. Gradually, they too came closer and got louder, until she could understood them.
“Well, at least she is back. Thank heavens.” Voice one.
A first aid worker maybe? Was she badly hurt?
Isabella opened her eyes. And closed and opened them again. The golden stars on the black were still sparkling. Nothing had changed. Therefore, she was not unconscious. Right?
“Elizabeth is not back. That is not her. She always dressed herself correctly.” Another voice.
Elizabeth? That was her mother’s name. Why did the first-aid crew talk about her mother?
Isabella stretched her arms and tried to push the tissue away. Just, there was nothing to push. She grasped into an empty, cool void. She moved her feet. Nothing.
Her eyes fell on the ring, she had shoved on her ring finger. It glowed in a low orange. That was the source of light!
“She wears the engagement ring.” Voice three. A female one.
What? Engagement ring?
Isabella saw the ring’s glow increase to bright red like the flames of the fire she had sat in front of, with her mother and sister, long ago.
The ring didn’t burn or hurt her.
Her thin night gown caressed over her skin at each try to reach something. Shouldn’t she freeze a bit? The air felt cold like winter in the North, but she felt warm.
“What if it got stolen?” Voice two.
That did sound more like a police officer and not a first-aid person.
“I didn’t steal the ring. It’s my mothers and I inherited it”, said Isabella.
“Doesn’t matter. You’ll marry her today. Our people waited long enough for this day.” The female again.
Didn’t they hear her, or didn’t they care?
She had to find a way out of the void. Did she fall into a coma? She had read of people who, after waking up, reported that they had heard everything but couldn’t answer or interact with the world in any way. Was she experiencing something similar?
“I marry no one!”, shouted Isabella.
Why didn’t she feel frightened? She had no clue where she was and who was talking. Instead of asking, she tried to participate in the conversation and argue?
“She looks so fragile with her hair openly falling down.” Voice two.
A warm feeling ran down Isabella’s right arm. It felt like her mother caressing her arm, when she was upset as a child.
Who touched her?
Hmpf. She wasn’t fragile. There was a reason she went running every day and took self-defense classes twice a week. She would never want to feel helpless like her family must have before they vanished. Sadly she couldn’t reach the voices around her. What were the self-defense classes then good for?
Isabella pushed the thoughts away. She had to stay alert. Ready to defend herself the moment she got a chance.
“Do you think she will survive bearing my heirs?” Voice two seemed to give up the fight and be concerned about her.
Heirs? Now that was stupid. She wouldn’t bear heirs to a stranger. And why thinking about survival? There were hospitals available, midwifes and doctors. Or not? The thought was somehow more frightening than the whole idea of children.
“We’ll check. First she has to wake up. A kiss should help to ground her spirit back into her body.” The female voice.
She seemed to know a lot and despite being annoyed. This one probably wasn’t on her side.
Steps walked away. Or rather rumpled and scratched a huge desk over a stone floor. Together with something clacking on the floor like only the claws of the cats and dogs back home had done on the stone floor. Were there animals around? Huge ones?
The steps stopped. Wind blew forcefully over her. Then, everything around her went silent.
Grounding her spirit in her body? What should that mean? Surely it wasn’t considered first aid to kiss a helpless unconscious woman. She would tell the person who tried that, without the need of breathing air into her, something about manners.
As soon as she found a way out of her hovering in the void with the sparkling stars as company and nobody listening to her.
Isabella folded her arms, ready to wait until something changed. The hand with the ring laid on top. The bright glowing red was the light source which let the stars around her sparkle. It couldn’t be the reason for what had happened after throwing back the blanket, could it?
“Shall we try the kiss then?” Voice two. “My parents left, so we have some time for ourselves.”
Isabella chewed on her lower lip. Voice two sounded nice and did seem to care about her. And he did ask instead of just kissing her. How sad she couldn’t say no. But, would she? Refusing a chance to escape this void?
She would.
Isabella waited for voice two to come to a decision.
Byrid sat next to the woman’s head.
He had carefully moved the curls away and looked down at her. He didn’t want to call her Elizabeth. He couldn’t say why, but he felt this was another woman, even if she wore his ring and he was married to her. Their customs said so: Whoever wears the ring of the heir is his wife. Actually, the wedding ceremony would be for the family and the people only. In putting the engagement ring on her finger, she already was married to him.
He thought about his mother who had wished something different for him. One of the beautiful griffin girls around.
He wasn’t interested in any of them. He was more interested in who this woman was and why her presence let his heart beat faster.
The rock he leaned against was smooth. As if someone had polished it a long time. Maybe the same someone who had created the balcony in front of the cave?
Byrid sat and waited.
She didn’t answer his question. Maybe a kiss would help, as his mother said. He would give it a try and find out what happened afterwards.
He touched her lips with his. Blood pulsed under her soft, warm skin.
Byrid caressed her head with one hand and deepened the kiss.
His back protested against the awkward position and his elbows rubbed over the rough stone surface. He kept kissing her. After her lips, he kissed her closed eyes and her forehead.
Should he try a second kiss?
He moved to her lips again and kissed them. They were still soft, warm and immovable.
A sharp pain stuck his cheek, combined with a loud smack and a hand warming his skin.
Byrid blinked.
Sharp teeth bite his lips.
He drew back.
“Get off of me”, shouted an angry, yet melodic, voice right into his ears.
The woman sat up and glared at him. She didn't try to get more distance between them. She clearly expected him to step back, from the way she looked at him.
Byrid rubbed his aching cheek and licked over his lip. She had bitten down hard. He tasted his metallic blood in his mouth. This woman truly was different. Elizabeth had never shown even a hint of violence. She had been laughter and joy and trust the whole summer.
“Stop using...”, she started a new sentence and stopped. Closed her mouth and stared at him. “You?”
Byrid looked over his shoulder.
There was no one behind him. So, whom did she talk about? He knew he hadn’t seen her before. If, big if, this really wasn’t Elizabeth.
“Uhm. Welcome to the griffin world. I am Byrid, prince and heir to king Ryid and queen Enis”, said Byrid and bend his head shortly. “Who are you?”
Maybe she would become more friendly knowing his name and introduce herself. Even with his lips burning and his cheek still stinging, he wanted to move closer to her again and try another kiss. A strange feeling for him.
“I’m not Elizabeth”, said the woman.
Byrid nodded and let out a sight. He had been right with that.
“I’m her first-born daughter.”
What? This was the child Elizabeth had been pregnant with? This woman was more than ten years old, that he was sure about. He only had to look at her breasts, that showed under the thin dress-like thing she wore.