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The metallic clash of swords rang out from behind, somehow standing out over the din. Einar spun to find Beadurinc engaged with a group of costumed revelers. No, they were Senka in disguise! Harbin already lay lifeless on the floor. As Einar watched, Parlen took up Harbin's sword, swinging it with futile strokes to defend his wife. They fought frantically, yet soon all three were pinned with their backs against the wall. Einar longed to aid them, but the wheel of fate was already in motion. A chasm of time and distance lay between them, so great that no man had hope of spanning it. Even now, overwhelmed by numbers and outmatched by those with murderous intent, Rica stood defiant and fearless. Her head turned away from her attackers as she gave a last, hope-filled glance to the doors at the top of the shattered staircase. The sword tumbled from Parlen's hand and clattered to the floor as his burly attacker gained the upper hand. Einar watched, in agonizing impotence, as his comrade and the two rulers were murdered before his eyes.
The building shook as it was pounded over and over again. Flames licked and raced up the strips of red fabrics draped in front of the windows. Dust from the shattered walls created a fog that enveloped the entire room. Fire rained down from bits of cloth and wood that had once been decorations spanning the ceiling. Even the panicked screams of fleeing guests were muffled by the seemingly constant thunder of the relentless attack. The once glorious capital building of Chiyo had been reduced to chaos in mere moments. Einar knew who Rica had been thinking of when she looked to those doors. She had thought Nerissa was in her room. He had to get into the gardens. Perhaps Nerissa was alive. There may still be a chance to save her. Einar broke open the nearest window with a chunk of fallen stone and leaped through it, heedless of the flames that threatened him. He ran into the open night as balls of flame continued to rain from the sky.
The fire consuming the Manor made it easy to see as Einar clambered over the pile of debris where the patio had once been. Miraculously, he had no trouble finding Nerissa. She lay partially buried at the very edge of the rubble, covered in dust and blood. Splatters of scarlet were scattered across the ground surrounding her. Einar's heart filled with dread as he reached down to wipe off a splotch that marred her pale cheek. To his surprise, his hand met not with the sticky touch of blood, but rather he felt the velvet softness of a rose petal. He brushed it away, and it fluttered to the ground. Looking more closely, he saw that the other splatters were petals as well. The stem of the flower was still in Nerissa’s hand.
Somehow, the largest of the stone fragments had not landed on her. Mere inches separated the crown of her head from a massive block of the column that had once supported the garden patio roof. Einar scrabbled to remove the debris, unflinching even as his own hands began to bleed. Gingerly, he pulled away a chunk that had apparently caused an injury to the side of Nerissa’s head. She was now free of the rubble except for her hair, most of which was pinned beneath the large boulder. The head wound was troubling, but it seemed she had no other major injuries. There was no time to wait for help and no safety to take her to in the city. That left only one choice.
Even without his sword, Einar was never unarmed. Pulling a knife from the inside of his suit jacket, he hastily cut her hair.
"You will have to forgive me, Heiress," he said as he lifted her. The stables were located at the far end of the property, at the edge of the forest that led to the mountains. It was there that he ran as quickly as he could manage carrying Nerissa. He hoped that the stables were untouched from the attack.
Fortune had granted them one mercy this night and caution another. Though the horses were skittish from the noise and activity around them, the stables were undamaged. His horse, Wind, stood calmly in the last stall, already saddled. It was always wise to be prepared for a quick flight. His sword and the saddle bags, packed with a change of clothing and extra supplies, were on the floor outside the stall—right where he had left them after giving the morning archery lesson. He pulled an extra blanket from the tack room and wrapped it around Nerissa before mounting Wind. After settling her into the saddle in front of him and cushioning her head against his chest, he rode out of the stables heading west into the forest, watching and hoping that no one was following. He held Nerissa's limp body with one arm while urging the horse onward with the other.
It had started to rain even though there was not a single cloud in the sky. There was no other explanation for the water that was pouring down his cheeks. Setting his jaw defiantly, he ignored the burning sensation in his throat and urged Wind on. Einar wiped the water away, but it continued to fall no matter how hard he wished it to stop.
He would ride until they were far enough away that it was safe to stop and treat Nerissa's wounds and change her from the tattered and stained dress. He rode on, rain still rolling down his face, to the one who could care for her injuries, to safety, to home—to Darnal.
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Thunderous rumblings could be heard even before he spotted the orange glow on the horizon. Erik would have urged his horse on faster, but they were already moving at top speed. He hadn't asked Shae what was so important, but he was sure that these unusual sounds must be related. The streets were littered with items hastily discarded as revelers had abandoned the festivities. The only people in sight were a crowd that had gathered at the gates of the Royal Manor. Here, the chill of the night was turned back by the heat of the flames rising out of the building. The constant booming had now finally ceased, leaving doleful sobs and the keening of the injured in their wake. There was not a single face lacking the black stains of soot and ash. Erik dismounted and led the horse through the crowd, searching for his intended recipients. By the time he reached the front, they were still nowhere to be found. A stout man stood nearby, wringing his white smock between his hands and watching the building expectantly.
"I need to find their Majesties, Rica and Parlen. I have an urgent message for them. Do you know where they are?" Erik asked him.
"They haven't come out," the stout man replied without looking away. The intensity of his eyes rivaled that of the flames, now reaching high into the sky. A tiny woman stood with him, her own face a mix of concern and distress. It seemed her firm grip on his shoulder was the one thing restraining the man from running back inside.
A young man in the torn remains of what looked like a dog costume staggered out through the broken doors of the building, cradling a sobbing woman in his arms. He set her down and paused only a moment when his body was racked by a fit of coughing. He turned to reenter the blazing building.
"What are you doing?" Erik asked incredulously. "Surely, the fire brigade is here..." His voice trailed off after noticing there was no sign of them at all.
"There are still people inside," the sooty young man replied.
“You'll kill yourself if you keep this up! It’s a fool's errand! Pan, talk some sense into the boy!" the tiny woman cried out, her voice imploring.
"As the future Bond of Chiyo, it is my duty to help them! And I will do just that until I can do it no longer." The fierce words hung in the air even as the young man dashed back into the inferno.
Pan, as the woman had called him, spoke like he was in a trance, still fixated on the building. "The fire brigade arrived a while ago. They went to the river to start pumping water...but there's been no sign of them since."
The woman's curls bounced vigorously as she shook her head. Erik was unsure whether it was in agitation or agreement.
Erik nodded. Whatever the reason, there was no one else to help, and he was more able to do so than anyone else present.
"I will come too," he called out as he handed the horse’s reins off to the trembling woman and followed the young man inside.
Chapter 9
Proof
Sunlight streamed into the room through the open windows, interrupted only occasionally as a mote of dust swirled through. Yet, even the springtime brightness did not improve Casimer's mood as he impatiently paced the
room. It had been seven days since his men had taken Chiyo, but their full success was still unconfirmed.
"I don't understand why you are so anxious, darling. Everything went according to plan," Echidna said. She appeared relaxed as she reclined against a pile of pillows on the chaise, but her husband’s restlessness was contagious. Her bracelets tinkled against one another as she ran her hands over the perfectly pressed folds of her skirt.
"Nothing is certain until we have the indisputable proof in hand," Casimer snapped. That answer should have been obvious.
His wife’s irritation at his snippiness was made abundantly apparent by the sound of her nails tapping on the wood trim of the chaise. Casimer could tell that his current behavior was annoying her, but there was no need for her to wait with him. She was the one who had insisted on remaining here. He forced himself to stop pacing and instead stood staring blankly at the empty fireplace. Still, the nail tapping continued.
So far, the people of Niamh had been stubbornly resistant to the change in control. The majority refused to acknowledge Casimer as their new ruler. Their obstinance had been expected, particularly because the change was recent, but swift action was necessary in order to firmly establish his hold.
Crime had become rampant as a result of the initial chaos associated with the attack on the Manor. After all, Casimer knew that taking advantage of such a situation was human nature. Looting and vandalism were the most common offenses. He didn’t find the crime level to be of great concern. His men would have no difficulties restoring the peace. It was the vandals that Casimer viewed as most problematic. They almost exclusively targeted postings of his decrees. Conveniently, there never seemed to be any witnesses. Such public displays of dissent would have to be put to a stop immediately.
"If you have so much extra energy, I know a way to put it to good use," Echidna purred in his ear. Casimer twitched. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed his wife’s approach—or even that the tapping had ceased—until she had spoken. Echidna twirled a lock of his raven hair around one of her fingers.
"Ladon's been asking for you for days now. No child should be without the attention of his father for so long. You should go spend some time with him, and I will send Nils to you when he arrives." Echidna breathed into his ear while gesturing with her free hand. She pointed out the open windows to the sunlit courtyard where their young son was playing under the watchful eyes of his nursemaid. After pausing to gauge his reaction, she added, "Nils could still be hours away."
Casimer briefly considered her argument before nodding in agreement. It was sometimes hard to resist his wife's persuasive powers. She could be very convincing when she wanted, and, in this case, she did have a point. Hearing his son’s playful laughter never failed to bring a smile to his face. Casimer’s hand was on the doorknob when a knock resounded through the room. The satisfied look disappeared from Echidna’s face. She flopped back into the pillow-covered chaise with a vexed sigh as Casimer flung open the door.
On the other side stood the man they had been waiting for. The Chief of the Senka was tall and muscular, and even more devoted than he was brawny. Loyalty was good, in Casimer's opinion, but Nils’ dedication was somewhat overzealous at times. His wife and infant son had disappeared just weeks before the tragic accident that claimed the lives of Casimer's first wife and son. Nils’ only comment on the matter was that they had argued and she had threatened to leave. Beyond that statement of fact, he seemed utterly unconcerned and indifferent to their absence.
If the situation had been reversed, Casimer would have turned Renatus inside out to find them. Had he not seen the shattered remains of their carriage protruding from the waves at the bottom of the steep cliff, he may not have believed his own family was truly gone. That had happened over twenty years ago, but the painful memory still felt like a sword through his heart.
"I have them, my King," Nils said. He dropped smoothly to one knee in a low bow without waiting for a greeting. In his outstretched palm lay a lumpy silk pouch.
Casimer snatched the pouch and untied the knot that held it closed. Three heavy golden objects spilled out into his palm, and he examined each in turn with the utmost scrutiny. The first two he had seen on Rica and Parlen’s hands many times before during diplomatic meetings. The rings that the Blood and the Bond wore were instantly recognizable. The third ring was one that he had never seen before. The Heiress had not yet been named the last time he had met with the rulers of Chiyo, although it was presumed that their daughter, Nerissa, would soon be given the title. As he turned the ring over in his hand, the red gemstone eye of the phoenix glimmered in the bright sunlight. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if the bird were glaring at him accusingly. Casimer shrugged away the feeling. His actions had been justified. What he had done was necessary for the good of both kingdoms.
"I obtained two of the rings from the corpses of the Blood and the Bond myself, my King. We finally found the third ring among the ashes of the Heiress’ bedroom. The fire was most intense in that area, so little more than stone and metal remained where it was found," Nils’ voice trailed off, letting the silence imply the rest.
"The rings are proof enough,” Casimer said. He snapped his fingers closed around them, feeling their weight as he shook his fist triumphantly. “They were worn by the Blood, the Bond, and the Heiress at all times. Wherever the ring found its resting place, so did she." His wife laughed and clapped her hands in a rare display of unreserved merriment.
Nil's toothy grin split his face as he rose from kneeling to his full height. Casimer dropped the rings back into the silken bag and tied the delicate strings. He slipped it into his pocket and settled into the tall chair opposite his wife.
"Have there been any new rumors?" Echidna asked, having already regained her aloof composure. Even though she appeared to be more interested in examining the tips of her shiny red nails, Casimer knew her better than that. She prided herself on being his eyes and ears. It was a rare occasion indeed when something slipped through her vast network unnoticed.
"No new rumors, my Queen." Nils hesitated before answering, his grin slipping away.
Echidna's eyes flicked away from her hand, and she sat straight up in the chaise, knocking some of the dainty pillows onto the floor in the process. Her attention was now focused intently on Nils. "By your emphasis, am I to understand that you have an update on an old rumor? Well? Do not make me ask twice!"
"Have patience, my darling. When has Nils ever failed to tell you all you wish to know?" Casimer enjoined. Echidna was a formidable woman. She had both a sharp mind and a sharp tongue. Nils was one of the few people who could weather her outbursts unflinchingly. They reduced most other people to incoherent stammering.
"Since her body has not been found, the rumor that the Heiress is not really dead is still going around. The new twist is that she used a crystal to escape the fire." Nils almost laughed at the last bit. Echidna did laugh.
Casimer found very little humor in the news. That strange rumor had to be silenced immediately. It would do no good for the people to cling to some irrational hope that their former rulers would magically reappear. Nothing good ever came from spreading false hope. Not that any rational person would indulge in such fantasies, anyway. Escaped using a crystal? Just the idea was preposterous! It was another example of the fool's paradise that Chiyo had become, fraught with superstition and wild fantasies about crystals and mystical energy. He would not allow anything, even something as far-fetched as that rumor, to undermine his control.
“Have you gotten any information on the whereabouts or activities of the Ohanzee?” Casimer asked.
“There has been no sign of them so far. We have seen no evidence of their involvement related to the current resistance. It seems they have retreated to their hidden stronghold, wherever that is,” Nils replied.
"I know that you would like to start looking for the Ohanzee’s fortress right away, but there are other matters that must be attended to first. I
thought that removing their rulers would be sufficient to take over control. If I must also wipe the memory of those three from Renatus to make the transfer of power clear, then so be it. Nils, prepare your men. We have much work to do." Casimer's voice grew more heated with every word. He would save the people of Chiyo from their backward customs. The time had finally come to lead all of Renatus into a bright future, filled with reason and flourishing with knowledge.
Chapter 10
Memorial Stones
Charred and broken beams of wood creaked and groaned, shifting precariously beneath Charis’ unsteady feet as she picked her way through the haphazard piles of debris. It was difficult to see where to step in the darkness, but she feared being caught more than falling, so the light from the single open shutter on the glow lamp would have to suffice.
This area was strictly off limits to anyone other than Casimer's workers. It was a fact that Charis was well aware of, but even that could not deter her. The scavengers were there every day. They searched and sifted through the rubble for anything of value. Whatever they found was sent back to Casimer, apparently as spoils of his conquest. To Charis, the idea was more than distressing—it was infuriating. It felt as if they carried away a piece of her friend with every item. Tonight, she was not looking for anything specific. All she wanted was to ensure that no more of Nerissa’s belongings fell into Casimer’s hands. Any of her friend's possessions were precious to her, regardless of their monetary value.
Reflection: The Stranger in the Mirror Page 9