Empress Aurora Trilogy Quest For the Kingdom Parts I, II, and III Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set)

by L. M. Roth

  “What woke you, Kyrene?” Marcus asked his friend.

  Kyrene shuddered violently, and closed her eyes abruptly. Then she opened them, and Marcus noted that her hazel eyes darted to and from the trees, even as his own did.

  “A dream,” she answered, her low voice almost inaudible in the silent forest. “I dreamed there were a great many people gathered in this spot, all of them clad in long flowing brown robes. A man, who appeared to be their leader, wore a circle of heavy gold around his neck. It was open at the throat, and not fastened as a chain would be. It seemed like a heavy bar that had been hammered into a circlet.

  “He spoke some words in a tongue I have never heard before. Then he raised a bowl over his head and looked to the sky. All of the others followed his lead. I felt a sense of dread; of fear of I know not what.

  “Then I woke, but the terror is with me still,” Kyrene finished. “And yet nothing actually happened, therefore my fear is not reasonable.

  “But I am afraid!” she cried out, and then quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Marcus put an arm around her and drew her close. He soothed her, then told her the vision he himself had seen.

  “What is this place, Marcus?” Kyrene asked him with widened eyes.

  “I thought perhaps you might know, or rather sense what it is,” Marcus replied.

  Kyrene gently drew back from Marcus’ encircling arm. So deep in thought was he that he had forgotten his arm was still around her. Yet Kyrene was right; it was not proper to hold a young lady, even though a friend, in such an intimate manner.

  Marcus blushed at his indiscretion and stammered out his question again.

  “I think this may be a place where rituals have taken place,” Kyrene mused. “Look at its situation: off the path and well hidden from the eyes of passersby. We may have received knowledge of things that have occurred, or may yet happen.

  “Whether they have or not is not my most pressing concern, however,” Kyrene remarked unexpectedly.

  Marcus blinked at her in surprise.

  “What is your concern?” he asked in a solicitous tone.

  Kyrene looked about her and drew her cloak more tightly about her. Marcus reflected to himself that she belonged in this forest, for with her tawny mane, wide hazel eyes, and the grace in which she moved, she appeared a woodland creature herself. He could never picture Kyrene in an aristocratic setting with all the pomp and polite convention of its dictates.

  With a flash of inspiration, he realized that Felix probably could not envision her in Valerian society either. And that, Marcus realized, is why Felix has not attached himself to her, or pursued any relationship other than friendship with her.

  He became aware that Kyrene was staring at him, and he returned to their discussion.

  “What is your concern, Kyrene?” he asked again. “What are you afraid of?”

  Kyrene took another swift survey of the premises, and then answered.

  “The Astra. They are here. In this place.”

  “Of course! That is the answer,” Marcus mused out loud.

  “What do you mean? Answer to what?” Kyrene whispered.

  Marcus looked at her; reluctant to alarm her, yet he felt he must be honest with her.

  “When I stayed in Eirinia before, I was told tales of strange beings who inhabited the woods and hills, who walked at night, their desire to take back the land that once was theirs. The inhabitants did not venture out after nightfall, but stayed in their homes, in fear of what they might encounter if they left the safety of their four walls.

  “I scoffed at such stories, and yet…there were one or two occasions when I sensed something, a feeling that I was not alone; that something watched me with hostility in its heart, and evil in its intentions. At such times I scarcely dared to breathe for fear of bringing I knew not what down upon my head. I felt it when I traveled home to Valerium one night, when I heard around me an unearthly moaning as if of a soul in pain.

  “And I feel it again tonight, in this place, and the horror of it is on me so strongly I fear I cannot shake it!”

  Kyrene’s eyes widened, and she slowly nodded her head in agreement to a mystery solved.

  “Yes, Marcus, it is they, the Astra, who roam this land and instill fear in the hearts of those who sense their walking. For they were banished long ago by Dominio, and to the Earth they were cast down. They have ever desired a kingdom of their own, and here they founded one.

  “Until the advent of men to this region, and they became their enemy. But at night, when their power is greatest, they return to walk and mark their territory, and any who encounter them are subdued by horror. For if they cannot physically rule, they still seek to gain power over men, and fear is their greatest weapon.

  “We must be brave, and ask Dominio to protect us, and to drive them out, that man may fear them no more.”

  Chapter XXVII

  A Warm Welcome and A Hostile Encounter

  Marcus looked down at the familiar village in the hollow below. Had it really been only two years since he had endured slavery in this tiny hamlet? So much had transpired that it seemed a lifetime ago…

  It all came flooding back to him; the humiliation of his bondage, the loneliness, the hard crusts and endless mutton to eat. He remembered also the vigils on the hillside guarding the flock of sheep, the constant vigil against wolves, and the unforgettable night when he killed the wolf that sprang at Cadeyrn, who in gratitude released him to freedom.

  So lost in his memories was he that it was some time before he became aware of the others looking at him. He flung back his head and the tears off his cheeks, and cleared his throat from the lump that obstructed it. Kyrene smiled at him sweetly in sympathy, while Felix averted his eyes, and Dag and Cort openly stared at him. Marcus understood: in their country, just as in Valerium, men did not reveal their emotions.

  Marcus smiled weakly and glanced at Bimo who tactfully regarded the landscape beneath them. Elena, he noted, gazed at him with misted eyes of her own, and nodded her head in understanding. She too, he remembered, knew the shock of losing family, home, and freedom in a single blow. Although Bimo had been a captive, he had returned home to find it still intact: mother and father still living, his dwelling untouched, and all that was familiar still established. Elena alone of all the company, he realized, comprehended what the return to this land meant to him, and the horrors it recalled.

  At last Felix spoke.

  “Do you know this place, Marcus?” he inquired as easily as though the recollection brought no pain to his friend.

  Marcus matched his mood, deeply grateful to Felix for not drawing attention to his momentary emotion.

  “Yes,” he nodded, “yes, I am well acquainted with it.”

  “It is small, is it not?” Elena commented in her sweet voice.

  “Yes, most villages in Eirinia are,” Marcus responded. “The majority of the inhabitants are farmers or sheep herders, and live in isolated dwellings. In the villages you will find the smithies, medicine men, and weavers, as well as the tradesmen. On the coasts there are some fishing villages.”

  The little band considered his remarks in silence.

  Marcus shrugged.

  “I am known in that village from the time I spent here. Perhaps a tradesman will permit us to camp near the huts: it would be safer than another night spent in the forest where we may encounter enemy warriors who dwell in the wild.

  “Let us begin our descent.”

  The twilight was falling when they reached the outermost hut. To the eyes of Felix, Kyrene, and Elena it was a primitive dwelling, being somewhat rudely constructed of branches bound together with long grasses and thatched with straw. It was square in shape and consisted of one story with a doorway over which hung a screen of plaited grasses. This could be replaced, Marcus knew, with a sheepskin during the winter months.

  From some of the huts they espied smoke coming through a slight opening in the roof, for the evenings were already chilly wi
th the advent of autumn, and peat fires burned brightly inside the dwellings.

  Marcus drew the Alexandrians into a circle and gave them a stern warning.

  “Remember,” he admonished, “the inhabitants are hostile to any but their own kind. In particular they hate the Valeriun Empire, so say nothing of the Empress Aurora, or boast of our power, or our riches which these people lack. Be as terse in your speech as possible, for if ever there was an occasion when it is possible to say too much it is with these people.”

  His friends listened in solemn silence, and nodded their heads to show they grasped the gravity of his words.

  Having thus warned his companions, Marcus approached the first hut, but before he could knock on the screen, a small child who had heard his step peeked out from the side of it. Marcus had a dim recollection of the child as being the son of the blacksmith. He opened his lips to speak, but before he could do so, the boy darted back into the hut, where they overheard him speaking in a high excited voice to someone within.

  So much for caution, Marcus thought wryly.

  But to his amazement the screen was thrust aside and a tall figure loomed in the doorway. They could not see his face, for the light of the fire was behind him, and in the gathering gloom he appeared a menacing figure indeed.

  The man left the hut and walked toward Marcus with a loping stride, his arms akimbo on his hips. He planted his feet firmly in front of where Marcus stood as though to challenge his presence.

  Then his face creased into a smile that lit up his face and transformed its weathered features. Marcus could now see him clearly in the waning light. He blinked as if not believing the sight before him.

  It was his old master, Cadeyrn!

  “Cadeyrn!” Marcus exclaimed. “I never thought to visit this land again; how good to see you once more!”

  Cadeyrn chuckled and slapped Marcus heartily on his back, indeed so heartily that he knocked the breath out of him. Marcus coughed and recovered his composure.

  “I was spending the evening visiting the smithy Laig, a kinsman of mine,” Cadeyrn replied. “And young Aedan recognized you and told me you were here. How good to see you, my friend!”

  And Cadeyrn slapped Marcus on the back even harder than before. This time, however, Marcus saw his hand coming and took a firm stance on the ground.

  “Hostile, you say?” Felix whispered in an aside to Marcus.

  “I saved his life,” Marcus responded. “That broke the hostilities.”

  Cadeyrn did not catch the byplay between the two, for he was busy introducing himself to the rest of the small band. Finding that they were all together he bade them come into the hut to partake of the evening meal, and to shelter for the night.

  They entered warily, having heeded Marcus’ advice, but the smithy Laig, along with his wife Niamh and son Aedan bid them to take a seat around the fire, where a pot of stew sent an enticing aroma that whetted their appetites, already sharpened from tramping in the forest all day.

  They sat around the fire, and one by one introduced themselves, but said nothing of their mission. Niamh alone seemed wary of so many strangers from different lands traveling together, and her eyes darted from one to the other as though summoning each one up and taking mental notes. Her small black eyes reminded Marcus of a bird ready to take flight at the step of a stranger, but her husband Laig made every effort to put the small band of strangers at ease, and to feel as though they were friends he had not seen for many years. Such hospitality was met with joy by them all, and they prepared to settle down for the night.

  After a night spent in peaceful slumber the little group of friends woke with renewed vitality but increased frustration. They did not know why there were here, much less what they were to do, and moreover it seemed there was nothing to do.

  They looked to Marcus for a plan or action.

  “What shall we do?” Felix inquired. “For surely there is nothing in this village to occupy our time, or to entertain our imaginations.”

  Marcus merely smiled at his friends.

  “Welcome to Eirinia,” he said.

  In the end they decided to walk to a fishing village that Marcus knew of and purchase fish to bring back for their hostess to cook as both a change of diet, and as thanks for the hospitality of their hosts.

  “The village is but two miles to the north,” Marcus told them. “We can easily walk there and back in only a few hours.”

  So they set out with willing spirits to meet any danger or delight that came their way.

  The village of Annick presented a dramatic picture as they looked down on it from a hilltop just opposite its location. It crowned the rugged coastline that rose to a height of about half a mile from the sea that beat against its cliffs, and was larger than the tiny cluster of huts that formed Leith, where they had spent the night. They counted forty small dwellings that circled the stalls where the catch of the day was displayed for sale.

  Elena wrinkled her nose at the smell of fish, but Cort let out a howl of enthusiasm, for he dearly loved fish and anticipated the coming meal eagerly. He ran eagerly from stall to stall to examine what species were to be had.

  So intent on his inspection was he that he accidentally bumped into a dark-haired boy of his own age who had strolled over to one of the stalls. Cort did not know the language of Eirinia, so he smiled an excuse and shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

  The other lad, however, was not appeased by Cort’s wordless apology, and he picked up a stone lying loose on the ground and threw it at Cort’s retreating back, hitting him squarely between the shoulder blades. Such a declaration of war enraged Cort, who returned the act of hostility with a pebble that bounced off the boy’s forehead.

  At this point, Kyrene intervened and injected herself between the warring factions.

  “Enough!” she said, placing a hand on the shoulder of each boy. “For shame, Cort! Turn the other cheek, remember?”

  “I will not run from a fight!” Cort bellowed, as he glared at the other boy and strained against Kyrene’s hand.

  The other boy tried to push against Kyrene also, but she firmly grabbed the upper arm of each boy and brought them to heel. The other boy spat at Cort, who doubled his fist and attempted to escape Kyrene.

  Dag was too quick for him, however, and came up behind Cort and pinioned his arms to his side. Cort knew that Dag would execute further punishment if necessary, so he ceased to struggle and stood still.

  Kyrene now turned her attention to the other boy, and seeing a trickle of blood seeping down his forehead, exclaimed and drew a kerchief from the pocket of her robe. She dabbed at the blood as tenderly as if the boy was her own son, and he stopped his struggles and gazed up at her in wonder.

  He bestowed on her a crooked grin, and tugged at his forelock in thanks. He threw one last smoldering look at Cort before scampering away to the pier, where he examined the fish that had just been brought in.

  With the conflict over, the Alexandrians ambled around the stalls, before deciding on white fish. They paused in front of the woman who offered it, and were astonished at the anger smoldering in her blue eyes. She was a small woman of about twenty-five, with hair the color of copper coins, caught up in a loose knot from which tendrils curled down. She had creamy skin and delicate features and would have been pretty but for the frown that distorted her face as she waited on the Alexandrians.

  “I don’t know that I should wait on you, seeing as how you nearly killed my boy,” she huffed.

  Dag smarted at this and addressed her curtly.

  “It was your son who hit my boy,” he retorted. “Cort bumped him, but your own son would not let him make friends.”

  “Friends!” she ranted. “Why would we be friends with such as you? Arrogant invaders! We’ll have none of you!”

  Now Dag was really angry, though Felix attempted to soothe him.

  “Who said we would be friends?” Dag fumed. “All we want is your fish, though it smells three days old!”

&nb
sp; “My fish is fresh, caught just this morning!” the woman shrieked in indignation. “And I would not speak of smells, were I you. When did you last take a bath? You reek as though you hadn’t washed in three days!”

  Dag could not find any remark fitting to return this cutting insult. It was true that the ever invasive smell of mutton that permeated Cadeyrn’s hut clung to his clothes. Felix gripped him by the arm and dragged him from the woman’s vicinity.

  Kyrene decided to smooth the troubled waters by finishing the purchase. The woman was mollified and cast a benevolent smile at Kyrene.

  “I saw you tend my boy,” she said. “Brenus is a good lad, but prone to be unruly since his father passed away last winter.”

  A frown and a fleeting shadow of sorrow flitted across her face, and Kyrene hastened to lift it from her brow.

  “Yes, I am sure that he is a good boy,” she lulled in her warm voice. “I am Kyrene, and my friends and I are eager to sample your fine fish.”

  “And I am Judoc,” the other woman replied. “You seem good enough. But keep that wild boy and his father away from my son.”

  Chapter XXVIII

  A Friend For Cort

  One day passed into another as they lingered in the golden glimmer of the September days. Eirinia was so primeval and lush that to the eyes of Felix, accustomed to the stateliness of marble cities, and to Kyrene, dweller of a rugged and rocky coastline, and to Elena, bred in dusty barren plains, the emerald hills and forests clad in their autumn splendor was a vision almost spiritual in its revelation. Dag and Cort were no strangers to primitive landscapes. As for Marcus, he had been here before.

  Marcus pondered on the changes in Eirinia since last he had seen it. Had it always been this lovely and unspoiled, or had he merely failed to see it from the view point of a slave? With the vision of a free man he could now savor the sight of a pale sunrise through a misty dawn, catch his breath when a ray of sunshine touched the golden leaves of an oak tree, setting it alight, and watch in wonder at a sunset of crimson, amber, and gold, as if the forest had risen to the heavens. Surely he had been blinded to this beauty before!