by Cale Madison
“Athalos,” Aketa greeted the prince, “I’m here to find out more about your missing brother. Dane says he didn’t see much and neither did Alice. What can you tell me? Anything that could help us?”
“I miss him. He taught me how to wield a sword, ma’am. Don’t know where he’s gotten off to, this time, but wherever he is, I can tell you he’s surviving.” the prince answered, rolling his neck until it popped.
“What do you mean by, ‘he’s surviving’?”
“Malachi has always been Darius’s favorite. He takes him on nine hunting ventures every year, says that he ‘doesn’t want a big company’ when I ask to go. My brother knows how to hunt, how to adapt. If he’s lost out there in the wild, I know that he’s still breathing. Of that, I’m certain.” Athalos explained. He wore a metallic crest, tied to a string around his neck - the Tuskan insignia. She found it strange that he called his own father by his first name but then remembered that it’s considered etiquette in royal houses.
“I hear that Dane worked as a stablehand. What do you do?” Aketa asked the prince, watching for signs of dishonesty. His expression showed nothing. Either he was cunning at keeping secrets, or he was telling the truth.
“I deliver messages between Brunson, the Hollows and Dadelburg. Letters from Darius entrusted to certain people.” Athalos answered, “Only when our errants are busy or the ravens fly off course. Sometimes, I polish armor and weapons for the knights, make sure they’re fit for battle.”
Aketa caught this detail and proceeded to ask, “In the royal armory?” The prince nodded, unaware of the true nature of these questions. He searched the room around him, making sure the queen wasn’t nearby and then leaned forward.
“Surely, you don’t think of me as a suspect, ma’am?”
“Not at all.” she lied, “I’m only weighing my options, right now. Someone has to know something about your brother. It would be impossible for a sleepwalker to escape the castle with hundreds of guards on patrol. Unless the door was left unlocked?”
“Darius and Mother are the only ones with keys to Malachi’s tower. I’m only telling you this because I can tell you’re a good person...” Athalos then whispered, “...question Dane again...but make sure you’re alone. He’s batty, in the head, I mean, but he knows more than he leads on. I think that he had something to do with Malachi disappearing.”
“How can you be sure it was Dane?”
“The last night that I saw my brother, he was running through the palace with Dane following him. Dane returned but Malachi didn’t. He butchers small animals for a laugh and killed six of my favorite horses. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he was involved.”
Aketa nodded in silence before dismissing the prince. She rested against the chair as she tried to process this new information; her thoughts resonated with the hope that I was alive and well, out in the desolate country. She didn’t know who to believe or what angle to see the truth from anymore. The only company that Aketa Mercer preferred was miles away in the Tuskan wilderness.
Instead of returning to her bedchamber, she decided to explore the magnificent Lockmour castle for a few hours. Linen tapestries draped across every inch of the walls in the hallways that connected to the palace courtyard, as if to consistently remind guests of their illustrious reign. Picturesque chandeliers, lined with bright jewels and pieces of silver, swung in the rafters as the gentle breeze snaked its way through the chamber halls.
One of such passageways led the curious woman up a flight of stairs, where she discovered a door that appeared to be barely open. She peered through the crack, laying her eyes upon two men sitting in chairs by the veranda: Cassius, the priest and Lord Gavin. The bald man was gloomily looking down at his feet while Gavin glared at him.
“Too far this time…” she overheard Gavin whispering to Cassius.
“My Lord, they’ve predicted this: one who walks in the clouds, a lone rider who uncovers the darkest shadow...mark my words, our final days are numbered. The Oracles have sent ravens to every corner of the Realm, and some have deciphered their prophecy. We have little time left.” Cassius replied, his words seething with nervousness, “The dark king will return for the wicked. We must pray now, pray for strength.”
“Stop with all of that, now! You’ve driven yourself mad from these farcical books.” Gavin snapped, gesturing to a stack of novelizations sitting between them on the table, “War is coming and you’d rather me fret over a fictional warlord from centuries ago?”
“Nothing is fictional about this. ‘A lone rider will release his soul unto the world again’. I’ve received their warnings, as well as every High Priest from Moskaul to Orthos. He rides now, as swift as the wind and the dark king waits for him.” Cassius replied, reading through a crumpled parchment in his hands. Gavin ripped the paper from his hands and angrily tossed it aside.
“War is real, Cassius! Sword against sword, country versus country. The visions of bald-headed, superstitious kooks who sit around, talking to statues and pools of water are not real. There is no prophecy, only sheer coincidence,” the Lord whispered to the firm priest, “and we have not come this far to back out now. Cassius? Are you still with me or not?”
Cassius shook his head and muttered, softly, “You’re on your own, Gavin. Consider me out of this arrangement. I must pray to Opheria...pray for you and for the rest of the world.”
Aketa fled down the stairs as Cassius began to depart from Gavin’s bedroom. She quickly descended the stairs and made her way to the long hallway, ducking behind a pillar to hide. She could hear the priest’s footsteps as he followed her path.
He suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“You know, there is a key to successful eavesdropping.” Cassius announced, knowing that Aketa hid behind the column, “Not getting caught.”
She reluctantly revealed herself. The bald priest shook his head in disdain, grinning as he proceeded to ask, “Why have you come to this part of the castle? Surely, the prince is not here.”
“Doing all I can in the time I have.”
“I understand that you want to help, Lady Mercer, but there’s only so much one can do. The wilderness beyond our walls is a trifling place.” Cassius replied, looking deeply into her eyes, “Tell me the truth. What did you hear in that room?”
“Nothing of importance to me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. This matter involves the entire Realm, not just you or I. We are but small pawns in Her game, moving freely forward until Her will demands our move. When the day comes that you require a place to hide or a message to be delivered to Opheria, don’t expect my door to swing open at first knock. Not as long as you’re sneaking around with your ear pressed to doors. I know that your heart's not open to Her light.”
“I pray to Opheria, the same as you, Cassius.”
“Prayers are just hollow words without true devotion.”
“Do you know where the prince has been taken? Do either of you know?” Aketa asked the priest as she leaned against the column.
“We do not. Trust is something you must learn to adopt, Lady Mercer. The old fool who lives in that room upstairs has trusted no one in many, many years.”
“Why?” she inquired, curiously waiting for answers. The torch light illuminated the priest’s blue eyes as he leaned in closely.
“It’s a long, tangled mess of a tale, and not one I’d wish to unthread today. A word of caution, Madame: be wary of where you drop eaves in this place. Such manner is not as acceptable among those less reasonable than I.”
The priest shuffled away, keeping his head low as he passed beneath the many palace archways. Once again, my wife was alone in the dark castle with nothing but a thousand unanswered questions.
CHAPTER FIVE
LADIES OF THE WOOD
“Are they anything like in the old wives’ tales?” I asked.
“Elves? Eh, depends on what tales your mother told you before bed. Mine might’ve been just a little bit different.” Skalige answe
red as we trudged through murky water, advancing deeper into the forest. Tree tops completely covered the sky above us, casting eerie shadows along the dark water and blocking any rays of warm sunlight from reaching us. Strange, billowing gases rose from where we stepped, alarming me constantly as we moved forward.
“Eh, pointed ears...bright, blue eyes...” I began to list before he interrupted by shaking his head.
“I’ll stop you right there.” he interrupted, “Avenwood elves are not the kind that you’d find on a city street in Ataman. These are dark elves, Caine. They have these beady white eyes and little sharp teeth. They cover their pale skin with mud to not favor their woodland brothers...and they are not the kind you negotiate with. Dark elves despise humans. Wood elves tolerate humans but a dark elf would rather slice his own throat open than converse with us.”
“Why don’t they attack Tuskan then?” I asked, momentarily losing my balance as my foot brushed over an underwater tree root. The water level met my lower waist-line, leaving me quite vulnerable should some monster come snaking along.
“They’ve created a peaceful embargo with the elves for safe passage, in the event that Arrigon ever decides to attack from the east. Elves are taller than us and are far more cunning in the strategies of war.” Skalige explained, “Once, I was on a raid crossin’ the far easterly coast of the Isles when we came across a village of dark elves. It looked like they had abandoned their homes before we arrived but they were burrowed in the marshes around us. It wasn’t until we had stopped to make for camp that they sprung upon us and killed nearly half my men.”
“What happened after?”
“Burned their bodies in droves and went on about our way. What else are we supposed to do? Give them funerals?” he muttered as we continued to wade through the swamp, “God, this marsh stinks. Smells downright foul, it does. I could be feasting in my castle right now, yet here I am, swimming in shitwater, more than likely going to be shot by a hundred arrows in five minutes.”
“You didn’t have to be here, might I remind you.”
“Yet here I am.” he said, to which I didn’t respond. I learned in that moment that the baron only wanted someone to complain to.
After ten minutes of mud squelching and mosquitoes buzzing, he broke the silence and said, “So how does it feel, coming back to the adventure? Don’t tell me you didn’t miss this. I could hear it in your voice back in Port Mercia. You were about to leap over the railing and swim to Tuskan.”
“I did miss it.” I admitted, “I just never knew how tedious of a life I was living until last year. Living day to day, counting coins. I had no idea. Regardless of how evil of a bastard he was, the djinn did save Aketa’s life. A terrible, vile miracle.” I said, almost losing my left boot in the soft mud, “Before that, I didn’t know adventure. I didn’t know what all was out there. Now, there’s no going back and I’m aware of that. This is it, Skalige.”
“This is what? Bloody hell, this bog!” he suddenly tripped over a root in the water.
“A new time, I guess. A change.”
“Well, bloody hell...another fuckin’ root...at least one of us is enjoying this.”
We moved through the wetlands, keeping our torsos above the surface and our blades drawn and ready. Skalige moved quietly, pausing occasionally if he heard a slight noise. He told stories of the creatures inhabiting the deep forests of Avenwood: satyrs, animals with the bodies of a goat and the head of a man and the Blemmyes, cannibalistic monsters with large gaping mouths embedded into their chests, without a face. I shuddered at the thought of encountering such beasts with only a steel blade to protect me.
“There isn’t a guarantee that we’ll even come across anything in here.” I reassured myself, “Could always be rumors to keep trespassers out?”
“Keep telling yourself that.” he replied, keeping his eyes trained on any sudden movement around us. We reached an area of the marsh that rose above the water level, allowing my lower waistline to dry in the moist, humid air of the forest. We rested for a few minutes, listening to the cawing of birds in the tree tops and the barking of squirrels.
“Look...nymphs...” Skalige whispered and grasped my shoulder. I turned to see figures emerging from the shadows of large trees: tall, naked women with slender features and neon-green, piercing eyes. They curiously analyzed us, never stepping too quickly and cautiously remaining on the other side of the marsh. Their forearms, kneecaps and breasts were covered in chunks of tree bark. I watched as they froze like frightened deer, becoming entirely camouflaged with the trees behind them.
“Are they dangerous?” I asked, nervously as more of them appeared.
“Depends on how faithful you are to Aketa. Wood nymphs ain’t hostile. Dryads are the ones to watch out for. They’ll lead you into the depths of the woods, where no one can hear you scream, then they’ll slit your throat. They don’t need jewels or coin. You can’t bribe them, trust me. I’ve lost many friends to dryads. Protecting their trees, that’s all they care about.” he answered, never taking his eyes off of the woodland creatures, “Nymphs are peaceful. They just want a warm body to curl up next to at night.”
Rather than asking how my friend could tell the difference between dryads and nymphs, I chose to stay silent and observe as the creatures returned to their trees. Our loud commotion in their ecosystem must have temporarily woke them. They almost seemed to be warning us of something. Before I could see any more of these strange, yet beautiful creatures, they dematerialized into the oaks and moss-covered willows.
Soon after, we heard shrill voices coming from up ahead.
We followed the sounds through another stretch of the forest before we came across the source. In the dim light of the woods ahead, we spotted what appeared to be five elderly women standing in a semi-circle around a black cauldron. They cackled and shrieked as they spoke, each stirring an individual ladle in the large pot; behind the women were several wooden cages encaging small, trembling children. They moved erratically, hunched over like sickly lepers.
“What are they?”
“Witches...” Skalige answered, “had to be fucking witches.”
We crept stealthily from afar, keeping our eyes on the old women as they paced and snapped at each other while their prisoners sat terrified. The closer we moved towards them, the clearer the witches’ words became.
“Go and prod the little snots, Odessa.” one ordered, “Make sure they’re still squirmin’. Doesn’t work if they’re dead already. Do it quickly before another one croaks. Keep ‘em alive and alert.”
An old, red-headed witch departed from the others to prod at the children with a sharpened pike, ensuring that they were awake and aware of what was happening. Before returning, she grabbed a small skull from a table by the cages and beat it senselessly into the wood. The chalky, powder residue that remained from the crushed bones she would then carry to the cauldron, where she proceeded to sprinkle inside. A green mist billowed out from the rusted pot as she recited a chant and swayed her hands in a circular motion.
“Come on.” Skalige whispered to me, “Let’s keep moving. These creatures are evil.”
“Wait...Malachi might be in one of their cages, or one of those kids might know where he is.” I argued, “They’ll die if we leave now.”
“What the hell are we supposed to do? I know bloody nothing about fighting witches. We’re good as dead if they catch us. I don’t like dealing with magic, especially in the hands of hags like that! Do you have a plan? Caine? Are you listening?”
I ignored him for a few seconds to analyze the situation: five of them, each standing around the cauldron as they spoke to each other, two seemingly-locked cages with about a dozen child prisoners and not a key in sight. I moved closer to the campsite, inching my way behind trees and their uprooted trunks to gain closer examination. I then spotted a small, bronze key dangling from the red-haired witch’s belt.
“There!” I whispered to Skalige, pointing towards it, “Reach the cages, out of
sight and I’ll get it to you. Tell them to stay quiet until they’re clear of the woods.”
“How will you get the key to me? They’ll see you!”
“I’ll improvise.” I answered with a full surge of confidence, even though I was immensely terrified. I watched the five old hags as they interacted with each other, listening intently to find some course of leverage that I could use against them. The women hobbled around, their spines protruding from the lining of their backs and leaving pools of spit wherever they stepped. They looked as if they had mere days to live.
“Vyri, come here. Come, come.” the white-haired witch commanded to the brunette, “You’ve begged for nine moons to drink first. Come, come, now. Drink to your health and dine with Opheria. Drink your fill.”
“I will not have it!” the red-headed witch blurted out, “Vyri drank more than her share last month. I demand more in mine. She never wooes the number of men as I do, so why should she get the first? I deserve it!”
“Exactly why she would get the first spoonful, Odessa.”
“No!” Odessa argued, drawing a wooden stick from beneath her old, matted dress and then aiming it towards the others, “I’ve waited too long for this, living in this horrid form...I will see my beauty shine again, and all of the fairest princes and nobles in the land shall come to ask for my hand in marriage. They will take me somewhere far away from you wretches and your curses.”
“We all live this way.” the white-haired witch replied, calmly, “You think yourself different than us but you’re not. You will wait your turn and drink when commanded or I will have you banished forever. See how many princes come knocking when you cannot change back. See how many wooes you get without taking your young form.”
This particular old witch seemed to be in total control of the situation. Odessa retreated, quietly to a shelter fashioned out of tree bark and branches. I turned to see that Skalige had already made his way around the far edge of their campsite, maneuvering himself towards the prisoners’ cages. I have to act fast.