Second Born

by Lance Wilson

  “I have met the elf from the Unagi, I have my doubts that it is the right elf. Are you sure the prophecy said it would be him” Skorm says, his voice like an icy breeze in the dark of night

  “I have told you all that was shown to me. If it is not him then it can only mean that Mecmed had chosen the wrong elf” She says and like him lowers her hood. She too has long black hair. She however does not remove her mask, no, not here, and not in front of him.

  “What do you mean he has chosen wrong, you said that the elf would be the one, and even if he wasn’t then his two brothers would rival him in both strength and power” he says and like lightening he is across the room, her throat in his cold vice like grasp.

  At first she doesn’t answer, how can she as he slowly chokes the life from her, but his grips slowly eases up and she lets out a cough or two.

  “Yes I said he would have two brothers that would rival him, but that does not mean that they would be his brothers by blood, there are many kinds of brotherhood” she says quickly stepping way as he takes a step and turns his back to her.

  “You stupid girl, Mecmed believes that this young man is the one you prophesized, you had better hope that he choose right.” he growls and begins to walk to the other side of the room.

  “You mean he believes this is the young man YOU prophesized, he knows nothing of me” she says with a little laugh, of course he would take the credit.

  “Remember dear girl, if you are trying to set me up for a fall, your life is connected to mine, never forget that” he says spinning and lifts the sleeve of his robe to reveal a mark, it is a tattoo, it looks like to triangles facing one another in a kind of S formation, the backs of them are even curved like in an S. the outline of both and the rod that connects them are in black, and the filling is gold, but in the center of each triangle is a kind of marking, one in red, one in blue. She knows the mark well, it was given to her when Mecmed took over the Kingdome and her father was slain. Given to her by Skorm to ensure that she would serve him and serve him well. This mark though whatever magic he put in it now links the two of them, if he dies, she dies, she would dare not set a trap, not yet, not tell she finds a way to break the bond.

  “I know all too well of out connection, and I have not tried to set you up to take a fall, I told you all that I saw. The flaw is with the king not the prophet.” She says bitterly

  “Yes well in the kings eyes he performs no flaws. If this is the elf all the better, if it is not, he is never to know” Skorm says and lets his sleeve fall back.

  “May I leave my lord, I have things I must perform before the night comes, rituals” she says and bows low, her voice now taking more of a submissive tone.

  “Vary well, but I shall be watching you just the same. You are to go to the room of cleansing tomorrow mourning and tend to the boy, find out if this is the one in your vision” he growls at her and then waves his hand dismissing her.

  She only bows her head one more time then walks over to the bookcase where like the portrait she flicks a switch to make is swing open. Once she is through she closes it and moves through her own passageway. This passage way like all the others is pitch black but unlike her master she doesn’t light a torch, why should she. She moves though the passage quickly and in no time makes her way to her own quarters. Like his it is a round room, but hers is barely the size of a servants quarters. And hers is hardly one for rituals; she uses his room for that. No, hers is just a bedroom with a simple bed and a few books. Slowly she takes off her robe revealing a magnificent form underneath. She is wearing roman like garb; it falls gently over the shoulder but comes tight enough to cover her chest. Her long black hair falls gently over her shoulder. The garb is black like the robe with gold trim. It falls past her waist all the way to her knee; around the waist she has it tapered off with a golden rope tied like a belt. Her father loved to see her like this, he always told her that this kind of garb always fit her the best, showed her in her most beautiful, like her mother. Slowly she removes the mask from her face and for a moment the world goes black. Then, then it lightens up slowly, but not like someone lit a torch, no, she doesn’t see like most people, she lost that gift long ago. She sees everything now for what it is, people can no longer hide behind the masks they show each other; she sees a wolf for a wolf, a snake for a snake, and a coward for a coward. Gently she reaches up to her face and feels it, such soft features, smooth silky skin, her hand begins to tremble as she reaches her eyes, they are scared shut, something she had done herself. She was young when she first started to see prophecies, she hated it, hated seeing the violence and madness inside men, in a flash of anger and madness she took a heated knife and cut out her own eyes, she thought that if she couldn’t see the visions then they would stop, she was wrong, if nothing else, they only grew stronger. As she thinks about the past she hears something scuttle near her. She is not worried, she knows even before it shows itself what it is. She smiles and sits on her bed and waits for her friend. The scuttling comes closer and closer until a huge hairy spider walks out of the shadows. The spider stands as tall as her thigh and is hairy, for the most part it is black but with some red markings, on the top of his back for instance there is a huge red skull. She found him in here when she was forced to retreat to the underbelly of the palace. She thought that he would bite and kill her; part of her hoped that he would, but he didn’t. They somehow found a way to become friends, he seems to always know when she needs someone to talk to, he is also one of her many secrets from Skorm. Oh sure her master thinks that he knows everything about her through that damned mark, but he really knows nothing. She has at least found a way to keep her room, her sanctuary from him, the mark that allows him to see though her eyes looses it’s power, she knows that he must have found out by now, but she has no idea why he has said nothing about it. Everyday she grows more and more powerful, all for a single purpose, to destroy her master and break the bond; she has even started to make pledges to the gods of old, Hades in particular. He controls life and death, if anyone could help her it would be him. She gently reaches over to her friend and scratches his back; in response he moves his mouth making a kind of clicking sound, his way of letting her know he likes it.

  “You know, if this isn’t the elf then we are indeed in trouble” she says to herself and lies on her bed.

  The spider follows suite and gently lies on the ground next to the bed. She only lays they’re staring into the flame of a candle she’s not even sure is there. The funny thing about seeing with eyes that aren’t your own anymore, you can never tell what is there and what isn’t. That is why she wears the mask. Skorm had it made for her, the eyes in the mask cancel out her mystic sight and restore her normal sight. It is perhaps the only good thing he has ever done for her, but hardly enough to make up for a lifetime of slavery. Laying there she drifts off to her own world of thoughts, what to do now, if the elf is the right one and Mecmed did choose wisely then nothing will bother her, the elf will take care of most everything for her, but if it is the wrong one. How will she get out of this one, if only the prophecy had mentioned names, but it didn’t, they never do.

  Chapter 6

  Mecmed

  Mellyruna sits alone in the cleansing room, wondering how long it will take for the potion to take affect, wondering what will happen. He only took it a few minutes ago but he thought that it would start immediately; the king said that this would hurry things along. Instead it seems to have done nothing, he just sits there wishing he had something to read. Then like an oak tree it hits him. His body temperature begins to rise, not slowly like any other fever but fast like he were burning from the inside out. In no time he is soaked in his own sweat, the temperature begins to make him feel groggy and tired. Slowly he gets off the toilet and lies gently on the cool tiled floor. Like a flash of lightning the sickness hits him, waiting no time he lifts the lid on the toilet and heaves as his body tries to reject all that is in
him. Tears form in his eyes as the pain of the heaving rips from his gut and moves through all his body, he just kneels there his head bent over the toilet for what seems like hours. A thick black tar like substance spewing from his mouth every time he heaves. By the end he is exhausted, he can just barely lift his arm to pull the chain, sending the sickness swirling away, but he doesn’t lift his head, he lets the coolness of the water hit his face as he takes long slow breaths. What did that man give him; he has been sick many times but never like this. Never has black tar come from him, it tasted like burnt rubber and had the odor of brimstone, what was it, and how long will he feel like this. As the thoughts run though his head again he feels it hit him again, this time it is making its way south. Waiting no time he pulls down his pants and sits, the sickness rips though him like a fire hose. Tears run down his cheeks as he feels that this is ripping him apart, how can this be good for him? There is no way this could be. As his old instructor told him, pain is bad; pain lets you know that you’ve done something wrong. He hears himself let out a simple whimper as it dies down inside him. He reaches up and pulls the chain before he even thinks about getting up. Not that he is even sure that he can, his muscles strained from this cleansing. Again he just starts taking long slow breaths, he feels his temperature rise, rise like there is a fire inside of him burning him from the inside out, sweat and tears cling to his face. Understanding now what his day is about to turn out like he strips himself naked putting his cloths in a pile in the corner, no sense in ruining them with this sickness. Just as he finishes that, it hits again and he finds himself bent over the toilet heaving out as more black tar makes its way out of his body. Between every heave he finds himself whimpering, the pain of the contractions, the heat burning inside him, its more then he can bear. Once he is finished again he lets it go swirling with all the rest and collapses his back to the wall next to the toilet, exhausted, spent. He wipes his face of the sweat, tears and splatter of sickness. He feels his eyes grow heavy and before he knows it, darkness falls over him.

  It is a beautiful spring day as Mellyruna begins to wake and walk the halls. Today his father is away, off to have a meeting with some of the lower lords in his land. He wonders what good it will do, all they seem to do is ask him for more money, more power, but to what cause. He is dressed in a white shirt with gold embroidery and white pants, and black boots. He makes his way down the halls as the guards all salute him, he’s not sure why. Oh he knows with his father gone he is the next in line to command, but he is nearly two years from the Kentonmen and hardly ready to take on such a task. Before he knows it he is smacked out of his thoughts as someone runs into him. Shaking his head and brining himself to the real world he looks down a bit to see it is his younger sister Maeraer, She looks at older half brother and quickly lowers her head, her face now turning bright pink.

  “Sorry lord Mellyruna” she says her voice only a whisper.

  “I got you, I got you” he hears his younger brothers voice shout down the hall, but seeing Mellyruna he too stops dead in his tracks.

  Ever since they found out that he was to be king one day they have started to treat him differently, like he’s separate from them. He’s starting to get used to it though, everyone seems to have started to treat him that way, everyone but Attonnan, his own twin.

  “Sorry lord, we were just playing tag” Byrdi says and lowers his head in a slight bow.

  “Like I care, and stop treating me this way, I’m not king” he says with a bit of a growl to his voice

  “But father is gone, and you are king” he Byrdi says his eyes never leaving the carpet.

  Mellyruna opens his mouth to argue the point, but stops; there is no way to argue it. He is the prince and with father gone he could give any order he wanted, well any order within reason, there is still there mother. Grumbling to himself he only continues to walk down the hall, is this what it’s going to be like, is he always going to feel this isolated.

  He makes his way down the hall into his study, it is a smaller version of his fathers study, something to give him the idea of what he will be doing most of his life when he is king, reading laws and passing judgments, he has to say he doesn’t enjoy it. As he sits there his head resting on in his hand his elbow on the table he just doodles on a piece of paper. It is days like this that he wishes he was his brother, Attonnan seems to walk though the castle and never be noticed, like he’s a ghost, but he also knows how much that can hurt, he has comforted his brother many times, and his brother has always returned the favor. He could use Attonnan right now but as usual he seems to have disappeared. He does this a lot lately, just vanishing out of sight of everyone. A small smile comes across his face; at least someone could get away. He is brought out of his thoughts with a tapping on the door. Snapping back to himself he looks up and sees his mother. Not his real mother, no, she died when he was only five, taken from them by a fever. No this is Rin, his father’s second wife and mother to Maeraer and Byrdi, but she might as well be his mother, she took him and Attonnan in as if they were hers and has treated them as hers since she got here. He has to admit that when she first was announced as his father’s wife he was angry, he didn’t know her and instantly decided he didn’t like her. But she won him over quickly, she always seems to know what to say to him and when to say it.

  “Your father is away and I’m board, would you care to join me on a ride though the kingdom” she says a polite smile on her face.

  “Is that safe, with Mecmed and all” he says knowing that they are at war and a ride could mean there life it is at the wrong time and wrong place

  “I am told that Mecmed is nearing the Hitori clan, not the Unagi, and I trust Vulge.” She says turning her back to him, her voice still sweet and playful.

  Vulge, the captain of the guard and there fathers trusted lieutenant. He has been in this castle since he and his father were young. Vulge is another person that has had a huge impact on his life, the man taught him how to fight and when to fight. He was a huge elf with a great axe for a weapon. His father trusted him with everything and when she was alive so did his mother. For a while there were rumors that Vulge has taken the queen to his bed more then once, that they had a love affair right under his fathers nose. When he turned seven he finally had to ask, Vulge swore on his mother’s spirit that he never took her. He like all the others in the kingdom loved his mother but in a different way, there was a strength and grace to her that you couldn’t help but love. But that was it.