Consequences Within Chaos

by Derek Barton

  She used the back of her hand to wipe at her cheeks. “It is the memory of his bravery, wisdom and courage that dictates and guides each of us now. He inspires and guides me as your Lady Magistrate. I will not let us fall or falter now on the path that he has cut. Your lands and farms will be protected by the Wyvernguard as they have always been. Our family’s loss and your loss of our beloved King does not tear down what he has built in stone!” She finished and her words invoked more cheers and clapping.

  The Freahl stepped up beside her. She bowed her head to the crowd, walked back and climbed into her box cart. Sergeant Devin politely ignored her anguished cries coming from inside. Freahl Kesnan looked around and finally spotted Prince Taihven behind the guards in the castle doorway. He pointed at the boy and waved him forward.

  The young prince had dreaded this moment. Taihven of course loved his father and wanted to honor him with a grand speech that would move the angry mob as his sister had, his nerves snuffed any spark of confidence he had. He gripped another silver longsword wrapped in blue and white roses. Its weight felt awkward in his sweaty palms.

  The boy felt every eye watching him as he trekked over to the stone pyre and laid his sword in the center of his father’s chest. At times like this, Taihven felt religious traditions and rituals only robbed emotion from what was important. Any other funeral or Reclaim-Pyre ceremony he had attended had been sterile and colorless. However, this was the first time he had to participate.

  When he stepped to the podium, a series of rotten tomatoes and a half head of lettuce splattered against it. The juices and pieces splashed all over him. Wyvernguard jumped on both sides of him and lowered notched bow and arrows down toward the courtyard. They remained in threatening posture as Taihven braved a return to the podium.

  “Before...before I begin, I would like to sincerely apologize to the individuals hurt by my actions a month ago—”

  “—We have no need for you, Horse-killer!” A cry interrupted the young prince. More curses followed and were hurled at him.

  Captain Ruessard stormed the turrets and glowered down at the mob. “Any further outbursts made during this ceremony will be met with swift force and imprisonment! No more warnings will be allowed anyone.” He leaned back as Wyvernguard upon his cue lined the entrances. The courtyard attendants grew respective.

  “Please continue, Your Highness.”

  Taihven cleared his throat and focused on his quivering hands on the podium. “Wyvernshield remains what my father envisioned and what he accomplished. The threat of the Viestrahl will be dealt with and preparations by the Wyvernguard are under way as we speak. Our enemy bears no more challenge to us than it did when King Haedrec first landed and reclaimed these forsaken ruins. Captain Ruessard has taken measures to confront and meet the Horde head on. The Throne remains in strong hands that—”

  “—Your mother and sister are more man than you, ya pissant!” A drunken voice stabbed like a knife into Taihven. Guards swarmed the mob and immediately a brawl ensued.

  Again, bottles flew along with the putrid vegetable waste. Torches and rocks rained down upon the pulpit area and the courtyard. The funeral had devolved into a violent peasant uprising.

  “Taihven!” Letandra screamed from her box cart as she leaped out.

  He ignored her and watched in numb horror as the melee continued to escalate. Bodies dropped in the mud and wounded piled up on both fronts.

  Letandra grabbed Taihven’s arm and dragged him back from the balcony. “Come away from there!”

  They retreated and headed for the emergency tunnels of the Adventdawn’s Vaultworks. Three guards blocked the pair’s path at the entrance.

  “What are you doing?” the Lady Magistrate demanded.

  One soldier looked down at his feet and avoided her outraged glare. “Queen Demetryce has ordered that after the ceremony that Prince Taihven is to be returned to his cell in the dungeons to await a public trial.”

  “I am sorry, Princess Letandra,” Sergeant Devin called out as he came up behind them. “I wanted to let you know before all this, but there was not a good chance to discuss it. Queen Demetryce was adamant about this.”

  She spun around to confront the sergeant and pushed him back onto his heels. She poked at his chest. “I just lost my father! I will not let you take Taihven away too!”

  The six stood frozen in an awkward stalemate as fire and stones dropped around them. The memorial’s horror grew even louder and the prince could hear the fighting and screams of agony from below. Guilt like a stone fist knotted in the pit of his stomach. His presence had only inflamed the funeral throng and ruined his father’s ceremony.

  “Enough!” He shouted and gripped Letandra’s arm. Taihven drew the sigil for his Levitation spell before the guards could react and hauled both of them up among the raging storm clouds.

  Even with his loving sister, Prince Taihven had never felt more abandoned or alone in the world lost to him.

  #5

  The brother and sister huddled on a rocky path, hidden in the forest’s shadows. Taihven hugged Letandra tighter as they took refuge under the branches of an oak tree. Then he gripped her arms and pushed her back to face him. “Go on now. I will be alright.” He fought to put upon a brave front and show no fear.

  The brutal wind kicked up. He would have to find some shelter fast. Emmerich was three or four arpents away or perhaps he could find something on one of the local farms or ranches of the village.

  “No, they will hunt for you now. She has gone mad! I cannot—” Letandra shouted.

  “—Stop! It is just the grief. She is owed her time.”

  She stared into his eyes and her anger waned.

  “Go back. I will stay hidden and let this fade. She is not after you. Besides, I will probably need your help on the inside.”

  She shook her head, but Letandra slipped away into the shadows as he had asked. “Be careful,” she called back over her shoulder. “I love you!”

  “I will see you soon.” He brushed off flakes clumping in his hair and on his jacket.

  Taihven hugged his arms together and set out across the field. The close echoes of the angry clash worried him. The night draped over him as he passed beneath the canopy of the trees. He hunched his shoulders to shelter his hands and drew out a Hand Torch sigil. Its minimal heat barely took the edge off the winter chill, but he was happier for the minimal amount of illumination it did give him.

  At the edge of the trees, the prince discovered a deer path and he started to jog. The trail widened, twisted to the left and proceeded to a run-down barn.

  “Perfect!” The prince blurted out and ran faster.

  At the edge of the clearing, he took the precaution to extinguish his Hand Torch. There was a series of lamp posts bordering the end of the property, but they were empty. Scant moonlight was the limit of the light available to him.

  The barn was dilapidated and appeared to be deserted. It had only a set of wide double doors for the horses and a single door near the back. All the doors were locked and chained. Dirty windows were shuttered or boarded up all along the ground. However, there were windows on the second story which were uncovered and one appeared partially broken. Taihven climbed up a rickety set of stairs along the west-facing side. It protested against his weight, but held him as he made his way up.

  Taihven slipped his arm into the broken pane and tugged at the window’s latch which kept it tightly locked. It would not budge. “Come now! You have to give.” He strained and leaned back with all his weight.

  The latch handle suddenly snapped off in his hands and he stumbled backwards, his arms pinwheeling. His back smashed through the rusted stair rail. The prince fell backwards through the air to the ice packed ground below.

  ***

  Creeping forward on her tippy-toes, Taliah approached the prince’s motionless body. He had not stirred since his fall. She was rife with mixed emotions. The maid had spotted the pair outside the village before they ran into the forest.
The storm clouds had not hidden Taihven and Letandra from her. Auste’s eyes allowed her to see their heated bodies in the pitch black. Auste demanded a complete recounting of their every movement each time he possessed her, so she dared not allow them to escape her sight.

  Yet, if Taihven was dead that might free her from his clutches. On the other hand, if he was dead, the Throne was technically empty leaving Wyvernshield that much easier for attack and capture. She hated her role in all of this, but she was an unwilling and helpless puppet now. With no options, she could only wait and pray for a good outcome.

  “Prince Taihven?” She spoke out loud, but he did not respond. She slipped a little further from the treeline and beckoned to him once more.

  She noted a wispy plume of breath coming from him. He was alive. Again, she did not know what that meant exactly for her.

  Taihven started to cough and his breath came out in rasps.

  “Prince Taihven? Are you alright, m’lord?” She asked, but her voice was overpowered by the wind.

  He moaned in pain. Taliah exited from the shadows. She knelt down by him, balled up her scarf and lifted his head up out of the snow. “Can you get up or are you hurt?”

  “I… I cannot breathe.”

  “Just lay still for a few minutes, My Prince. Your fall must have knocked the wind from you. I will take you back to my quarters in the village when you are ready.”

  The boy did not answer, but his eyes were filled with suspicion.

  “It is alright. Princess Letandra sent me. She asked me to find and hide you. She is worried, sire.”

  Blood trickled from behind his ear. Taliah turned his head to the right and she began to blot a re-opened gash with a jacket sleeve.

  “It was pure luck I spotted you in this storm. But do not worry, I will get you to a warm bed.”

  The wind blustered and howled as thicker flurries came down. “Ready? My mule is tied nearby.”

  He bobbed his head, but winced at the pain. She guided him to his feet and shouldered his weight as they walked away the barn.

  Taihven twisted to look over his left shoulder and he moaned again. Taliah followed his line of sight straight to his father’s blazing funeral pyre upon the castle wall.

  #6

  Taihven’s eyes opened, his vision though remained blurry. He was under a thick, fur-lined comforter and a thin sheet. It was too warm, sweaty. When a hand rubbed a cool, damp cloth over his forehead, Taihven blinked and could only make out Taliah’s silhouette. The room was dimly lit by a single, hooded lamp on a nightstand next to the bed. He noted a broken mirror on top of a white desk spotted with dried blood. Several pieces of a clay bowl and cup were spread out under an overturned chair. A marbled, grey candle clock was mounted above a tiny, stone fireplace. The stylus on the side of the candle hovered a little under the eleventh hour mark.

  Taliah hummed a soft melody to herself. The prince noticed her curly, red locks and spattering of freckles along her cheeks. The maid was near his age, but she mainly worked in the kitchen or served his mother or sister. She caught him staring up at her and she returned his gaze. He felt a blush spreading across his face, diverted his eyes and suddenly realized that his clothes were hanging over a chair near a small wood oven. His blush grew darker.

  “Hello there, My Prince. I am sorry that I do not have the type of quarters that you are surely used to, but at least it is safe and warm, no?”

  He only nodded as he was not ready to speak.

  “It is still nightfall, sire, so I took the liberty of making you ready for bed,” she said matter-of-factly even though she could see him squirm with embarrassment.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Uh, no, thank you.” He answered as he lifted his hand to his head and felt a cloth bandage that wound around his head. “Perhaps a cup of water?”

  She nodded, crossed the room to the dresser where a grey, clay pitcher sat and poured him a small cup.

  Taihven accepted the cup and drank from it, stalling for time to think of what to say. The boy felt incredibly awkward and unsure of himself. “Are we in Emmerich?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “I am very grateful for your aide. I shall be leaving once my clothes are dry and will get out of your way, my lady.”

  “Oh, no! It is storming out. That would not be wise, sire. And, by the way, my lady is a saying you use on the court girls, not a servant wench like me!” She laughed at her own joke. “It is Taliah, alright?”

  She stretched in an exaggerated yawn and then lifted her evening gown up and over her head.

  “Wh-wh-what are you doing?” Taihven stammered.

  “It is alright, My Lord. After all, it is only fair since I have seen your naked body.” The girl smiled with mischief in her eyes. “Now, scoot! I have just one bed.”

  She plucked the blanket out of his hands and climbed in against him. Leaning over, she grabbed the lamp’s handle and held it up to blow the flame out. Taihven stated, “I should sleep on the floor.”

  “Shhhh,” she blew out the lamp. “You need your rest.”

  After several heartbeats of silence, she whispered, “It is alright to breathe, Prince Taihven.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You are cute!” She giggled again. “And you are a true gentlemen as well.”

  He felt her arm go across his chest as she snuggled closer and hugged him to her.

  “You may stay as long as you desire.”

  His breathing increased, but she did not comment. Moments passed and her breathing fell into a rhythmic flow. He listened to her sleep with both relief and guilty disappointment.

  He thought to himself, I am pretty exhausted, possibly even gotten a touch of Malay. I could stay here for perhaps a day and then I will find another hiding place.

  The obvious violence that had happened in the room intrigued him. Her motives and her intentions had also bothered him, but Taihven had no real reason to doubt Taliah. Her charms and appeal melted away his reserve. Taliah’s beauty was only haunted by those exotic, grey eyes.

  For more than one reason, he was resigned to the fact that he would not get any rest, let alone sleep with her pressed up against him. Taihven decided to get more information from her when she woke or discover what she wanted from him in the morning.

  ***

  The Boy Prince snored under the covers. His face red and flushed. Taihven’s forehead had beads of sweat from a minor Malay fever.

  So helpless, Auste mused. Taihven, however, was the linchpin to all of his plans. His sudden demise would start a chain of events that would derail and unravel Auste’s machinations. King Haedrec’s boy was not his only target.

  His sister and the queen do not know where he is? No one in Adventdawn?

  …no…

  Taliah answered.

  The citizens’ riot had been inspiring news to him. This inner city turmoil would further delay the Courts and the Wyvernguard efforts and preparations against the Viestrahl Horde March.

  Do you know why the boy ran?

  …no…

  The king had finally died and left his flock huddled in the corners trembling in terror. Their Throne weaker each day in their eyes. It was time to push their fears further – it was time for another attack.

  Auste continued to stare through Taliah’s eyes and he reached out with her hand. He wrapped her slender fingers around the youth’s neck. He felt Taliah’s will stirring and daring to thwart his efforts — he tightened his grip.

  …NO...

  She was far too weak, but it made the temptation to spill his blood all that stronger. Through Taihven’s skin and the maid’s, Auste felt the prince’s heartbeat. To kill the prince with his puppet — to feel and revel in the wash of her emotions of hate, guilt and disgust — would flood him with exquisite sensations. He forced a smile on her lips.

  “So easy,” he said aloud through her.

  Taihven stirred, but did not wake. Auste removed her hand from his neck and ended his game.
>
  Keep him hidden and keep him here. Lie, threaten or seduce him. Whatever it takes, but I want him out of the way and I do not want his sister to interfere. He relayed these instructions.

  Then he added, I will not accept any failure.

  A grim fantasy of her body being ripped apart and devoured by a dozen Viestrahl flashed across his mind. She saw it and her body flinched at the horror.

  Do not fret, Taliah, this will all be mine soon enough!