Phantom of the Heart

by Stein Willard

  Another shadow stepped closer. “About a day or so, sire.”

  The man's eyes strayed in the direction where the camp lay. He would keep her in sight tonight. “Make sure the Arnati troops are protected. I will keep watch here, just in case something happens.”

  “Yes, sire. I will leave immediately.”

  The man settled himself against the tree. No need to prowl around the camp and cause any more panic than was needed. He closed his eyes, but they fluttered open almost immediately. Maybe he could sneak just one more peek at her. He gracefully rose to his feet and stealthily made his way toward the camp.

  Chapter 13

  Orla turned over onto her back with a soft groan. The camp was quiet with a few snores sounding here and there, but she knew nearly everyone was awake. After supper, the generals had divided the troops in groups and informed them about what they could expect. A frenzy of weapons preparation had ensued and, just as quickly, the camp had settled down. Orla raised herself onto her elbows and studied the expanse of the camp. The fires were still burning high, but she doubted they would keep throughout the night. She looked to where Cybralle lay and found her silver eyes alert, studying the area.

  Orla lay back down on her sleeping furs. Supper was only a few hours ago, but she was hungry again. She would trade her shed for a side of beef just about now. She let out a frustrated sigh. Her eyes widened suddenly, and she threw a quick glance at Cybralle. The silver eyes were focused on a spot on the other side of the camp. Was it possible that the warrior had not heard the soft footfall? It sounded very close. The hair at the back of her neck rose suddenly. Someone was there, watching them. She looked at Cybralle and this time found the woman looking back at her.

  What is it? Cybralle mouthed.

  Someone is watching us, she mouthed back.

  Cybralle slowly pulled her sword closer. Are you sure?

  I can feel them looking at us.

  Orla watched as Cybralle gave a fake snore and turned over onto her other side.

  ***

  Cybralle pierced the darkness behind the ring of fire. After a while, she turned back to face Orla. The girl was right. She could not see anyone or anything, but they were definitely being watched. Even now, she could feel eyes on them. She looked over to where Germi lay so she could warn him. Just beyond him, she detected a slight movement. Her eyes sharpened as she tried to make out the shape. Her heart stuttered to a stop. A shaft of moonlight shot through the tree branches, and she watched in stunned shock as blood-red eyes came into view.

  “Take up arms, we are under attack! Take your positions! NOW!” She was on her feet, rushing toward where she had seen the beast. As she came closer more red eyes sprang out from the dark. She had to give her men credit, for they were immediately armed and assuming battle positions. She lifted her sword just as a large, dark shape hurled itself at her. She was winded as she landed on her back, a large wolf straddling her.

  Cybralle had never feared for her life, but looking at the huge beast, sitting on her chest with teeth bared, she felt herself saying a quick goodbye. The wolf growled deeply and lowered its head toward her. She turned her head away, closing her eyes, as she waited for those long canines to tear into her. The beast was so close to her face that she could smell its breath. When nothing happened, she turned her head slowly. The wolf's eyes were dark now, studying her with surprising intelligence. She lifted her sword slowly, hoping to catch the beast by surprise, only to have it slapped out of her hand.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw booted feet coming closer. Everything had happened so fast, probably in seconds. She knew her soldiers would not take minutes to react to a threat to their commander. The wolf backed off her, its fur standing on end as it snarled at the men. Cybralle seized the moment to spring to her feet and dived for her sword.

  She heard the sharp twang of arrows being released and the wolf growled as it stormed into the troops, flattening them with its huge body as it made its way through the throng. With her sword in her hand she made for the wolf only to be brought up short by a scream, which quickly ended in a death rattle. Swinging around, she saw another large wolf viciously tearing at one of the men. The beast lifted its head, its face stained red with blood. More wolves penetrated the fire circle, making for the men.

  “Attack!”

  Even with all the chaos around her, she remembered Orla and pushed through the fighting mass to get to the blacksmith. She sighed in relief when she found the blacksmith engaged in a fierce battle with one of the creatures. It was huge and outweighed her by far, but Orla expertly dodged its claws. Cybralle weighed her options. She could return to her men and help them out or she could stay and keep Orla's back. Turning to look at her warriors, she saw that quite a few were down, but so too were a few of the beasts. She was proud to see how they worked in tandem as they took down another creature. She was just about to turn back to Orla when she saw a strange occurrence.

  The wolf which had attacked her earlier pushed another wolf to the ground, and ripped out its throat. With a deep growl of satisfaction it rose on both hind legs. Upright, the beast made for the closest wolf which was engaged with group of soldiers. Using its bulk, it pushed the soldiers aside. With a swipe of its claw, it flung the wolf to the ground; not giving it a chance to recover, the first wolf bore down. Taking upper and lower jaws in its claws, it pulled them apart, dislocating them with a sickening crunch. The soldiers came to their feet, eyeing the wolf warily. The wolf swung its shaggy head in their direction and growled before lunging for another creature. The men seemed to get the idea and, within a few moments, a tentative alliance was formed. When her men found protection behind the huge wolf, Cybralle turned her attention to Orla.

  The air exploded from her lungs.

  A soft keening sound reached her ears and it took her a while to realize that it was coming from her.

  Cybralle dropped to her knees, doubling over as she violently retched.

  ***

  Miriam cautiously stuck her head into the tent. Sterling was still snoring softly. The past weeks had been very trying for them all. Sterling had personally led a battalion into the desert, chasing the Hurians as far back as they could. As much as it was a victory of the Royal Army, it had also been a great loss for them. Exposure to the harsh, arid environment had taken its toll on their forces. They lost close to a hundred men to exhaustion, heatstroke, and ambush by the fleeing Hurians. It had taken the intervention of a second battalion to rescue the survivors, including the princess, who was close to death.

  Miriam walked to the bed where Sterling was deeply asleep. The troops had told of how Sterling had refused any nourishment, making sure that what little was left was shared amongst the men first, settling for the scraps instead. If she was a hero before, she was a legend now. Even in her weakened state, she was said to have mortally wounded the Hurian commander, sending the remaining enemy soldiers fleeing in all directions.

  Miriam gently pushed a tendril of red hair from Sterling's pale face. It had taken her two days to replace the water and nutrients in Sterling. Her external wounds would take a little longer, but Miriam had managed to relieve her skin from the worst of the sunburn, although it was still painful for her to wear anything against her skin.

  “Orla…”

  Miriam's eyes shot full of tears at hearing the soft pleading in her friend's voice. Since her rescue a week ago, Sterling had been in and out of consciousness. She would call her wife's name every time she regained consciousness. When she noticed Orla's absence, she would fade out again.

  A missive had arrived that morning, bearing the personal seal of the queen, which made it clear that no one but Sterling was to know its contents. Miriam noticed that Sterling's breathing changed. Sterling was becoming restless. Miriam gently stroked her hair. Her eyes shifted to the scroll in her hand and back to Sterling's sunburnt face.

  “You will have to wake up, my friend. I have something for you,” she murmured. Her eyebrows raised in s
urprise when the silver eyes flickered open and looked at her.

  “Orla?”

  “She is not here, Sterling. Welcome back to land of the living, my friend.”

  Sterling's eyes fluttered close again. “How…how long has it been?”

  “A week. You regained consciousness a few times, but only for a few moments at a time.” Miriam moved away to fill a glass with water. “Are you thirsty?” she asked over her shoulder. When Sterling answered in the affirmative, she brought the glass over and helped Sterling up so she could drink. “Not too much at once.”

  After a few sips Sterling laid back. “What happened in my absence?”

  Miriam shook her head slowly. “Not much. The men are busy packing up and the generals have decided to leave a small troop here to guard the border.”

  Sterling tried to sit up, but Miriam pushed her down gently. “Everything is taken care of. We were waiting for you to regain full consciousness so we could start the journey back.” Miriam saw Sterling's face harden, her eyes blazing with frustration. “You are not yet strong enough, Sterling.”

  “I do not care, Miriam. I want to get home. Tell the men I am fine and that we will leave tomorrow at noon.”

  “I do not—” Miriam began, but was quickly interrupted.

  “That is an order, Miriam. If you do not want to tell them then I will.”

  Miriam looked at Sterling with a heavy frown. Sterling's lips were still chapped and below the thin sheet, her body still held injuries from her last battle with the Hurian commander. Moving her now could open the wounds she so carefully stitched a few days ago. But refusing an order from her sovereign was tantamount to the death penalty. She held out the scroll to Sterling instead.

  “This came for you this morning,” she said evenly and left the tent without a backward glance.

  ***

  Mesmeria sighed softly, as she carefully made her way over to the chair in front of the fireplace. Cybralle sat as still as a statue, her eyes fixed on the glowing embers. The queen's heart shattered at the sight of her strong mate, looking so defeated. She gently brushed over the tousled, dark hair which seemed to sport more grey now, since her return from Arnat.

  “I have asked the kitchen to send up a tray for you.”

  The dark head lifted slightly. “I am not hungry.”

  Mesmeria's eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Cybralle was wasting away. The once robust warrior was a mere shadow of her former self. As desperate as she was to get Cybralle out of the deep depression she had sunken into, she also knew that she had to gently coax her mate back to her.

  “I know, my love. But you have not eaten since yesterday morning, and I do not want you to fall ill.”

  Cybralle shrugged. “In that case, I will try to eat something.”

  Mesmeria planted a soft kiss on the dark head. “I would like more than anything to have dinner with you, but with the visiting delegation from Tsubis, I am expected to entertain tonight.”

  “I understand.”

  Mesmeria stood there for a moment longer, looking at Cybralle. It had been two weeks now and every morning, Cybralle rose from their bed and stationed herself before the fire. That seemed to be the only place where she found peace. Cybralle's sleep was infested by demonic nightmares which caused the big warrior to roll off the bed and cower on the floor. Mesmeria had spent more nights on the floor, cradling her mate to her chest, than she could remember. She too felt the pain and sadness at Orla's death. Many times, as she held her lover, she too shed tears of regret at the demise of the young blacksmith.

  She quickly shook off the sad thoughts. She had a roomful of politicians downstairs waiting for her. With a final stroke over Cybralle's hair, she made for the door.

  “Have you sent word to Sterling?”

  Mesmeria turned at the door to find stormy, grey eyes looking at her. “I sent a messenger a week ago.”

  Cybralle turned away. “Good.”

  Mesmeria stepped through the door and closed it softly behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment, but at the soft sound of footsteps approaching down the candlelit hallway, she pushed away and planted a fake smile on her face. She would get through this night.

  ***

  Cybralle's hand was shaking as she reached for the wine flask. She brought it to her lips and drank deep from it. She did not take the flask away until she felt it was much lighter in weight than when she first took it. The potent brew immediately went to work, and Cybralle sighed as a slow heat filled her body. Soon…very soon…the pain and guilt which had kept her up for most of the past month would recede, giving way to blessed numbness. It would also help a lot when she had to face Sterling, who was due any day now.

  From the private lounge she heard the chamber door open. The citrusy smell, which was so part of Mesmeria, filled the chamber. Cybralle sighed. Not a day or night went by without Mesmeria gently berating her for refusing to leave their chambers. Cybralle did not know if she would ever be able to tell Mesmeria what she saw when she tried to close her eyes at night. Mesmeria would probably never understand why she could not go out there and face her men. She lifted the flask and groaned in frustration when a strong hand took it from her grasp.

  “You need to eat. The kitchen informed me that all your meals for the day have been returned untouched.”

  “I am not hungry,” Cybralle said as she turned her head away, refusing to look at Mesmeria.

  “In that case, I would suggest no more wine should be sent up to the room,” Mesmeria said sharply.

  Cybralle's head jerked up. “I am not a child and I will not let you take that tone with me.” Cybralle felt her insides swell with the helpless rage she had been keeping inside for so long. “Go intimidate your subjects instead.”

  She saw the green eyes darken before Mesmeria swung.

  The slap jerked Cybralle's face to the side. Cybralle surged out of the chair, her large hands balled in fists. Mesmeria's eyes glittered with anger, as she stood there looking up at Cybralle towering over her.

  “If you ever again lift your hand to me you will regret it,” Cybralle hissed, as her hands clenched and unclenched.

  “What will you do?” Mesmeria asked calmly. She lifted her hand again, but this time Cybralle grabbed her hand before it touched her cheek. “If beating me will pull you out of this cloud of self-pity you have been dwelling in, then I am willing to allow you to beat me until I lie bleeding on the floor.” This time a single tear slipped from the green eyes and ran down a flustered cheek. “You have deserted me.”

  Cybralle felt her heart jerk at the words. She had never deserted Mesmeria. Not once in all these years of marriage. She quickly dropped Mesmeria's hand and took a step back, her anger deflated.

  “How can you say that? I…I have been here for you, always,” she choked out. Her eyes roamed over Mesmeria's face which was glistening with more tears now. She hated to see Mesmeria cry. It made her feel so helpless.

  Mesmeria's arms locked around her own abdomen, as if she was trying to keep herself from falling apart. Cybralle swallowed at the sight, for this was the first time she had ever seen her wife like this.

  “Our daughter is on her way back to hear the most devastating news ever and…and like a coward you are hiding your face behind a wine flask leaving me to do this alone.” Mesmeria lowered her head slowly. “I have already lost you to grief; I cannot watch the same happen to our daughter, Cybralle. I need you.” The blonde head lifted. Watery, green eyes met hers. “I am barely strong enough to hold you and Lima together. I need to be stronger if I have to save Sterling from spiraling into the dark abyss of bereavement. Without you, I am so weak.”

  Cybralle stood ramrod stiff, as she witnessed her wife's anguish. Since Orla's death Mesmeria had been so strong. Cybralle was aware that Mesmeria, too, mourned the untimely death of Orla. Some nights, when Mesmeria thought she was asleep, Cybralle would feel her wife slip from their bed and come and sit in front of the fire as soft sobs wracked her body. Th
e next morning the green eyes would be bright and lively again, as she again availed herself to Lima. Cybralle felt the tears well up in her own eyes. Mesmeria was right. She had deserted her. In her grief, shame, and guilt, she had not only deserted her wife, but Lima too. They were, after all, grieving for both their daughters. She felt tears run down her cheeks. She had failed the most important person in her life.

  “I…I…am so…” The words got stuck in her throat, as she a sob tore through her body. “Mesmeria…Mesmeria…Mesmeria…” She chanted the name over and over, as she reached for her wife. With infinite tenderness, she cradled Mesmeria to her chest. More tears slid down her cheeks, as she felt her wife cling to her with desperation. How could she have been so selfish? All this time, all Mesmeria had wanted was to be held too. Instead, Cybralle sapped everything her wife had to offer from her and not once had given back. “Please, forgive me, beloved. Please, forgive me for being so weak and selfish.”

  Soft lips pressed against her neck. “Just promise me that you will never push me away like this again.” Mesmeria leaned her head back so their eyes could meet. “I was so lonely and so very scared.”

  With a groan, Cybralle cradled Mesmeria's head against her chest. “It will never, ever happen again. I promise you.” She brushed her lips over the fragrant hair. “I pray that one day I can redeem myself in your eyes.” Mesmeria gently pushed out of the embrace and Cybralle fearfully met her eyes. She searched the green eyes, as she waited in anticipation for Mesmeria's next words. “Please, do not tell me that I will never be able to, beloved.”

  Mesmeria smiled weakly. “You will always be my protector and the most important person in my life, Cybralle. There is no need to redeem yourself in my eyes. We all felt the loss, some more than the others, but we all felt it.” Mesmeria placed her palm against Cybralle's cheek and the warrior leaned into the caress. “I would, however, like to know what happened. Will you tell me? No one claims to know what happened exactly, but I think you do.”