Phantom of the Heart

by Stein Willard

  With sheer determination, she had whipped her men into a frenzy of revenge. The brutality that ensued left her returning to her tent drenched in enemy blood after every battle. Loyalty to the crown and her own presence alongside them brought a semblance of strength to the men and, together, they gradually pushed back the intruders.

  She needed the healer to understand that the men out there were fighting a war so that Miriam and her family could grow old in peace. She, Warrior Princess of Karas, was the center around which these men had built their hope of winning this war again.

  “My country and my men need me out there, Miriam. We are so close to pushing them back. My absence could reverse it all. Now do as I tell you and let me join the battle.”

  Understanding and fear warred in Miriam's eyes, but she did as she was told. Half an hour later, Sterling gritted her teeth against the pain in her side, as Miriam helped her pull on her armor again.

  As soon as she picked up her sword, she read the words which were lovingly engraved on the blade— Revendi at Me. With a faint smile she nodded. Yes, my love, I will return to you and no barbarian will stand in my way of keeping that promise to you.

  A loud cheer sounded, as she ducked out of her tent and lifted her sword above her head. Orion trotted over to her and, after lovingly patting him, she swung up into the saddle.

  ***

  “You need to eat more, my child. You are wasting away.” Lima pleaded softly. “You surely do not want Sterling to see you like this upon her return.”

  Orla sighed deeply. Can she not understand? It is so painful to continue without Sterling. The first three months her wife was gone, she still had hope that Sterling might return. Now, half a year later, news from the Wastelands was scarce. Sterling wrote as often as she could. Orla appreciated that Sterling remembered that someone else would have to read the letters for her and tried not to make them too personal. It was only late at night that Orla would take the notes to bed with her, trace the letters with her finger, and imagine the love and desire Sterling must have felt as she wrote the words.

  A shadow filled the shed, breaking her reverie. The man looked haggard, as he stumbled forward. Orla could see a thick layer of dust on his clothing and knew immediately that he was a messenger. Only a man riding hard for days would look like this man did. Immediately, her thoughts went to Sterling and her heart turned cold.

  “Milady, the queen requests your presence urgently.”

  Orla threw a quick glance to her mother and saw the same fear reflected in her eyes. She hastily shrugged out of her apron, leaving it where it fell and pushed her way past the man. Her long legs cut down the space between her and the castle, as she ran to the throne chamber. She burst through the double doors, not waiting for the guards to open them for her. She came to an abrupt stop at the sight which greeted her. The queen was not alone. Standing before her was the Crown Prince of Arnat. The queen looked at her and waved her closer.

  “Come closer, Orla.”

  Orla hastily bowed before her sovereign, her heart hammering in her chest. “Your Majesty?”

  Mesmeria inhaled deeply. “We have a problem, Orla.”

  Orla felt the air get stuck in her throat. “Sterling?” she croaked.

  “No, Orla, not Sterling…worse.”

  Not Sterling? Orla felt herself gradually relax. If Sterling was fine then nothing could be any worse.

  “How may I be of service, Your Majesty?”

  Mesmeria turned to Cybralle who stood silently next to the throne. “Cybralle?”

  The queen’s consort descended the few steps toward her. “Prince Halen brought us disturbing news. A plague is ravaging the kingdom of Arnat and they request our assistance.”

  “How…What can I do to help, milady?”

  Cybralle looked at the young prince and back at her. “We need weapons, Orla, and you are the best there is.”

  Orla nodded slowly. “Anything specific, milady?”

  Cybralle's face was unreadable. “We need something unique. But let us first make our guests comfortable, before I fill you in.”

  ***

  “You have reopened the wound. Not to speak of the new one you sustained today.”

  Sterling grinned at Miriam. She was too happy to let Miriam’s surliness spoil it for her. Today's victory was theirs. The barbarians were back across the border where they belonged and their numbers had been reduced significantly.

  “It was all worth it, Miriam. Victory was ours today,” she murmured lazily. She took another sip from her goblet. “The barbarians will remember this day for generations to come.”

  Miriam tsked as she rolled Sterling over to reach the wounds in her back. With a sharp dagger she cut away the bloodied shirt. “You are lucky that these wounds are not serious.”

  Sterling felt Miriam's hands as they gently pulled away the shirt then suddenly stopped. “Sterling?”

  “Yes, Miriam.”

  “What are these marks on your back?” Miriam asked slowly.

  Sterling sighed. Miriam could be so exhausting at times. “What marks?”

  She felt Miriam touch a few spots on her lower back and Sterling was ashamed to feel a pleasant shiver race up her spine. It had been so long since she was touched and her lower back was a very sensitive spot.

  “They look like bite marks. Have you been attacked by the camp dogs recently?”

  Sterling frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “You have been bitten. Were you playing with Greer and Vinion again?”

  Sterling's frown deepened as she carefully shifted through her memories. Her eyes suddenly widened and she blushed. Orla! She was taken back to their last lovemaking session, just before she had to leave. Orla had been ravenous. Sterling vaguely remembered the blacksmith licking her whole body, taking playful nips.

  Sterling cleared her throat uncomfortably. Should she tell Miriam? Maybe she should, because knowing Miriam, the woman would not let her rest.

  “Ah, it was not the dogs,” she mumbled, glad that her face was hidden from the healer.

  “Then what could have caused these…” Miriam's voice suddenly faded away. “Oh! Ah…I…I…uh…” Miriam inhaled deeply. “As I said, you are lucky that your wounds are not serious. I will clean them and replace the bandages.”

  Sterling saw the healer's legs as she walked away toward the medicine chest to retrieve whatever she needed to take care of her injuries. Turning her head slightly, she could see the healer bending over the chest.

  “Do you want me to put something on the…uh…bites too?” Miriam asked.

  Sterling grinned lecherously. She was getting drunk. “No. Leave them be. They are a good luck charm.”

  Miriam turned from the chest, her blue eyes somber. “It’s been months. These marks should have healed already, Sterling.”

  Sterling sighed, as she gave Miriam an irritated stare. “They do not bother me. Now finish up so I can join my men outside. We have a lot to celebrate.”

  Miriam shot her a suspicious look before she slammed the chest shut and returned to the bed. “Your wish is my command,” Miriam said stiffly. Sterling ignored her.

  The next twenty minutes passed in silence, as the healer cleaned and dressed her wounds. They only spoke again when Miriam helped her into her shirt.

  “Your wife…” Miriam began carefully, but stopped again.

  Sterling looked up at her from where she was busy pulling on her boots. “What about my wife, Miriam?”

  Miriam did not meet Sterling's eyes, as she kept herself busy packing away her medicine. “She seems to be a wonderful person. You must love her a lot.”

  Sterling sat up straight, her eyes sharp as they watched her friend. “I adore my wife. Why are we talking about her?”

  Miriam looked up quickly, her blue eyes hooded. “She seems like a nice girl.”

  As much as she tried, Sterling could not keep the smile off her face. “She is an angel.”

  “How well do you know her? Y
ou got married…”

  Sterling pushed to her feet, towering over the petite healer. “What is it you really want to say, Miriam?”

  Miriam lowered her eyes. “I wish I could be so fortunate to meet someone like her one day.”

  Sterling's eyes were pensive as they rested on Miriam's bowed head. That was not what Miriam wanted to say. She could sense the other woman's discomfort. “What about Orla, Miriam?”

  “Nothing, Your Highness. I just wanted to congratulate you on finding such a wonderful wife. She grew up before me and she is well-liked. She once helped my grandmother to rebuild her pig pen after it was vandalized by rowdy youths.”

  Sterling was not appeased, but, for now, she was going to let it be. She fastened the strings on her shirt and nodded. “She is a caring person and I love that about her.” Grabbing her cloak, she ducked out of the tent, not seeing the strange look that crossed over Miriam's face.

  ***

  Cybralle swung the blade and smiled as it cut effortlessly through the air. She turned to Orla.

  “It has good balance. Not too light and also not too heavy. How many do we have now?”

  “Two hundred and one with the one you are holding, milady.”

  Cybralle smiled, but her eyes had a hard edge to them. “Good. I knew I could count on you.” She replaced the sword on the table. Since the arrival of the crown prince a week ago, she had been restless. Arnat was her home and the home of her family. It was her duty to protect her people even though she was the co-ruler of another kingdom. Her eyes fell on the sacks in the corner. “How many do you think you could still finish before we leave?”

  She saw the blacksmith estimate the capacity of the sacks. “Probably another hundred if I get two more helpers.”

  Cybralle nodded. “That would suffice. King Parlin is sending over three hundred men to accompany us to Arnat.”

  She saw the confusion on the blacksmith's face. “You are also going?”

  “We are going, Orla. I am taking you with us. To win the war against this plague, we will need more weapons. You are the only one who possesses the craftsmanship we need.”

  Cybralle saw the emotions warring on her daughter-in-law's face and she knew what she was thinking about. “Sterling will join us there. I will send a missive to her before we leave.”

  “Then I would be honored to join you, milady.”

  Cybralle smiled at the blacksmith. “As a precaution, I want you to join us in training before we leave. To reach Erfolk quickly, we will travel through dense forests. I want you to be able to defend yourself in case we are ambushed.”

  Orla smiled. “You need not burden yourself too much over me, milady. For the past five years, I have been a student of Memphi. My mother insisted that I should learn the art of war, just in case I was called upon to join the Royal Army like my father.”

  Cybralle's face split in a wide grin. Even better, she thought. Memphi was one of the best warriors in Karas. Age had sidelined the old master, but he was still a force to be reckoned with when sufficiently provoked. She herself had sent Sterling to study under the warrior at a very tender age, and Sterling was a great example of the man's expertise.

  “You have just settled my heart greatly, my daughter.” Cybralle placed her hand on Orla's broad shoulder. “I must tell you again, how glad I am that my daughter chose you. I doubt she would have found a better mate in all of the kingdom and beyond. I will leave you to your work then. See you at supper time.”

  ***

  “Milord.”

  The dark head turned slowly and feral eyes met those of the newcomer.

  “What could be so urgent that you forgot my directive to not be disturb?” the large man growled, as he slowly pushed to his feet. The messenger paled, as his eyes moved beyond the master to the remnants of his meal. “Speak up, man!”

  The man swallowed and nodded nervously. “A large battalion of Arnati soldiers is making their way to the Karasi border.”

  The news grabbed the leader's attention immediately. “How many men exactly, Humud?”

  “An estimated three hundred, milord.”

  Humud watched as his master processed the information. After more than twelve years in the service of this man, he still felt uncomfortable in his presence. Not because he was a cruel master, no. He was probably the most just man Humud had ever known, but his size and those peculiar eyes of his made men shake in their boots in his presence.

  “Do we have any news on Ridat?” The master's deep voice shook him from his reverie and he quickly nodded.

  “His scouts were spotted dogging the convoy.”

  The large man scowled. For a few moments, he just stared into nothingness with a strange look on his face.

  “They are going for help.” Those spooky eyes lit on him again, and this time Humud felt a shiver go down his spine. “Send out fifteen men to trail the convoy as protection. They may not be aware of it, but we are fighting on the same side.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  Chapter 11

  The candle flickered wildly as a slight breeze disturbed the air in the room. Stealthily, Cybralle's hand moved to the hilt of her sword. She was so deep in thought she had not even heard the door open. Thanks to the flickering candle, she knew she was no longer alone.

  “Who is there?” she asked sharply. Since the arrival of Prince Halen, she had been suffering from extreme bouts of paranoia. She was jumping at her own shadow, something she had never done before.

  “Your wife,” came the soft reply.

  Cybralle sighed deeply and turned her head to locate her wife. “Then come to me, my wife. I have need to rest my head against your bosom. I need to hold onto you to ease my worried thoughts.”

  Mesmeria stepped out of the shadows. She was already dressed for the night, her body visible through the sheer material of her nightgown. Mesmeria settled herself on Cybralle's lap. Cybralle moaned in pleasure, as the queen's hands pushed through her short hair and pulled her head against her breasts.

  “You have been restless during your sleep. Are you not tired?”

  Inhaling the soft, citrusy scent of her wife, Cybralle nodded. “I am exhausted, my love, but until I know what is happening in Arnat, I will not find peace.”

  Gripping the cool dark strands in her hand, Mesmeria pulled Cybralle's head back so she could see the handsome face.

  “I will not send you away from me looking as ragged as you do now, Cybralle.” The green eyes were serious. “As your sovereign I have the right to refuse to send my best warrior. Unless—”

  Cybralle felt her ire spark. “Unless what? How can you be so selfish?”

  The green eyes widened in shock. A flash of intense pain crossed over the beautiful face. Mesmeria slowly got off Cybralle's lap and, with silent steps, left her wife sitting alone in the candlelit room. Cybralle shook her head slowly. What just happened? She pushed both her hands through her hair and groaned. She did not doubt that what just transpired was more her fault than Mesmeria's. With a heavy heart, she climbed to her feet and walked down the long hallway to their set of rooms.

  She slowly opened the door to their chamber. A quick glance at their bed proved that Mesmeria had not retired for the night yet. Closing the door behind her, she walked through to their personal lounge. Her heart felt heavy when she found her wife sitting quietly before the fireplace, a book open in her lap.

  “My love?” When there was no answer, she slowly made her way over to squat next to the chair. “Please forgive me.”

  A soft sigh sounded and Mesmeria turned to face her. “You are forgiven, Cybralle.” The green eyes were cloudy as they studied her. Cybralle reached for her wife's hand and brought it to her lips. “Cybralle, you seem to forget that I have too much to lose if you do not return to me. You are exhausted and I cannot take the risk of sending you from my arms into a dangerous situation knowing the chance exists that I might not hold you again.”

  Cybralle hung her head in shame. This was what Mesmeria had wante
d to say to her earlier and instead she… Cybralle groaned inwardly. She felt a soft touch on her head, small fingers combing through her hair.

  “I know and understand why you are acting this way. You are the most honorable person I know and that is one of the many reasons why I love you. I will never stand in your way of helping others, but I love you and am scared of losing you. Thus you were not wrong when you called me selfish.”

  Cybralle's head jerked up. “No, I was wrong to call you that. I totally misunderstood.”

  Mesmeria's eyes were warm as they looked into hers. “I do not think so, my love. When it comes to you, I am a selfish wife. I have worked too hard to win your love.” Mesmeria lowered her head and Cybralle sighed softly as her wife's soft lips touched hers.

  When the kiss ended, Cybralle swallowed hard. “Next time I act like an oaf, have me dragged out into the square and whipped.”

  Mesmeria giggled. “How dramatic, beloved. I will use that as a last resort, but I know of more pleasurable ways of handling you.” The queen rose to her feet. “Come to bed with me. Until the convoy arrives, I will make it my duty to ensure that you get enough rest.”

  Cybralle came to her feet and allowed herself to be led to their bed. With infinite tenderness, Mesmeria helped her out of her clothes and into bed. Cybralle eagerly pulled Mesmeria into her arms and held her close.

  “I love you, my queen.”

  “I love you more, my consort.” Mesmeria placed a small kiss on her chin. “Now try and sleep. I will watch over you.”

  ***

  The cave was dank and dark, the stench of fear and death hanging heavy in the air. In the center of the cave stood a tall, thin man, his hair a limp curtain over his face, hiding his expression. His hands were folded behind his back.

  “How many new ones have we recruited so far?”

  A man shuffled closer, his eyes deep-set in a scarred face. “We have fifty new ones, Master. More will soon find their way over here.”