The Royal Trials: Seeker

by James Tate

  “What makes you so sure it’s King Titus who’s responsible?” Sagen asked, and both the bear-woman and I turned to her in horror.

  “Who else would it be?” The woman spat in disgust. “Because believe me, this didn’t just happen from poor personal grooming.” She waved a clawed hand at her furry face.

  Sagen rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t implying that he was innocent, just that he doesn’t strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I mean.”

  I wrinkled my nose at her, unable to pass up the opportunity. “Do you know what you mean? No offense, Princess, but I seriously doubt you’ve ever handled a tool in your life, let alone ventured into a shed.”

  The dark-eyed beauty just sneered at me in response. We’d come a long way in a short time, but I didn’t see us becoming best friends anytime soon. Which was fine by me, given my recent record with best friends.

  “In there,” our escort told us, pointing into the mouth of a mine shaft. “Just follow the lanterns.”

  This time, both Sagen and I hesitated. “You’re not coming with us?” I asked the woman, and she shook her head. “Nope, the priestess didn’t ask to speak to me, so I’m not permitted entry. Good luck.”

  I took another long look at the mine entrance before frowning up at the mutated woman. “What will happen to our companions while we’re gone?”

  The woman folded her furred arms over her chest. “If it were up to me? They’d be killed just for their connection to that scumbucket they call father. But I suspect they will be left alone until after you speak with our priestess.”

  “And what about after?”

  “Ransomed back to your king in exchange for autonomy, I would expect.” She let out a small growl. “We’re all that remains of six different villages, and not a single man among us. We simply want to be left the hell alone.”

  I floundered for words, but Sagen just gave her a sympathetic nod. “That’s understandable. I’m sorry this happened to you, but I’m confident things will work out soon.”

  The beast-woman seemed to take comfort in Sagen’s words and bared her teeth in some sort of smile before leaving us there at the mouth of the mine shaft.

  “That was nice of you to say,” I murmured to her, feeling all kinds of uncomfortable to see this more human side of Sagen.

  The princess gave me a sidelong look. “Those weren’t empty words, Callaluna. I meant them. Things will get better soon for everyone. Not just Teich.”

  I really wanted to believe her, but the red moon hanging over our heads filled me with dread. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because you’re going to fix it all, dumbass. Everyone knows it except you.” With a small nod of encouragement, she turned back to the ominous mine. “Let’s do this shit.”

  19

  The mine shaft clearly hadn’t been used for its intended purpose in a long time. The walls were lit by beautifully made glass lanterns, and the well-worn floor was clean and devoid of the dust and dirt one would expect in a mine shaft.

  “What did they mine for here, again?” I whispered to Sagen as we made our way through the long, dark tunnel. She paused long enough for me to turn to her in the lantern-lit gloom and ask, “What?”

  “Seriously, Callaluna? Did Rayventh melt your brain when she worked that love juju on you? The town is literally called Ironforge.” Not even the shadows of the tunnel could disguise the look on her face as she said this—like I was a total moron.

  I cringed, rubbing a hand over my tired eyes. “Fair call.”

  Usually I wasn’t so hairbrained, but the exhaustion and stress of the trials so far seemed to all be catching up with me. Or really, if I were honest, I’d just been trying to make small talk with the princess to move away from that awkward statement she’d made about me saving the world.

  So yeah, I’d rather she think I was a bit dumb than dump the fate of humanity on my shoulders. Who could blame me?

  “Come on,” a woman’s voice echoed through the tunnels. “We don’t have all night.”

  Sagen and I exchanged a look, then hesitantly continued toward the sound of the voice. After all, that was what we’d come for.

  Just a little farther and we emerged into a large, interior chamber where a woman sat elegantly on a throne carved out of the very rock of the wall. Her dress was a pearly pink and long enough that it draped across the floor at her feet. For the most part she seemed entirely human.

  At least from neck down.

  Her head was almost entirely wolf, to the point that I couldn’t even work out how she could speak so normally.

  I didn’t get a chance to wonder for long, though, as she laughed a tinkling, feminine sound and waved her hand to the bench seat in front of her.

  “Come and sit,” she invited us. “I have been waiting a long time for you to arrive.”

  I flashed a confused look at Sagen, but she just rolled her eyes at me like I was missing yet another obvious thing. Probably the priestess meant her comment in a more prophetic sense. This was a steep learning curve for a Pond-dweller who’d had zero need for knowledge of gods and magic before.

  “You’re the High Priestess of Barmzig?” I asked, a little unnecessarily, and the wolf-headed woman nodded.

  “They call me Rema. I was visiting Ironforge when the curse hit the town. Overnight, the entire town began to mutate, like you’ve seen from the beautiful women who remain. At first, the animals controlled the humans, and they all fled the town in search of solitude.” The wolf-woman’s snout opened and closed sporadically as she spoke, but her voice was as smooth and crystal clear as if she still possessed a human mouth.

  “That explains why these towns were reported as deserted,” I murmured to myself, turning the information over in my mind. “But they came back?”

  Rema nodded. “Some did. Most didn’t.”

  “What happened to the rest?” Sagen asked, her hands clenched into fists in her lap.

  The priestess turned sad, golden eyes on Sagen. “Dead. They couldn’t handle the mutations and simply expired. Or killed themselves. Either way, the ladies here at Ironforge are all who remain, and they look to me for guidance.”

  “Why you?” I pressed. Something didn’t quite add up.

  Priestess Rema turned her attention to me, and I saw a flicker of... something... in her gaze. Amusement? That would be an odd emotion for the current situation.

  “I’m the High Priestess of Barmzig,” she explained, “which means I carry some of Our Lady’s mercy in me. I was able to help those who sought me out.”

  I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “Help them how?”

  The priestess’s fangs bared in what I guessed to be a wolfish grin. “I was able to grant small mercies. The women who came to me were able to retain more of their human natures than those who didn’t.” She cocked her head to the side. “You don’t need to be so suspicious of me, Rybet Waise, Barmzig is our goddess of mercy. She’s on your side.”

  Sagen made a choking noise beside me, and panic gripped my stomach.

  “Rybet Waise?” she repeated in a strangled voice. “You’re an orphan from Lakehaven?”

  Waise was the surname given to all orphans in Lakehaven. Every major city and kingdom had their own version of it, so it was unsurprising she’d recognized it. I ground my teeth together and swallowed past my fears.

  “How do you know my name?” I demanded of Rema, ignoring Sagen’s bubbling laugher beside me.

  The wolf-woman grinned again. “I know a great many things. Like what you came here for.”

  “You know where to find the crown.” It was a statement, not a question. Now that I was focusing on them, the stones in my pocket were practically vibrating and jumping against one another. It was here, in this room somewhere.

  The priestess waved a hand in a dramatic gesture, revealing a low table between us—totally out of thin air—with a gleaming golden crown sitting on top of it. It was studded with red jewels that matched the ones in my pocket, and I
could count the nine gaps where the stones had been displaced. Even without that visual confirmation, I could feel the magic radiating from the object like the warmth from the sun.

  “It’s just been sitting there, this whole time?” I whispered, flabbergasted. “How has no one else found it?”

  Rema shrugged one slim shoulder. “It hasn’t been here the whole time since Ophelia’s death, but it has been in my possession, yes. I had been moving around with it until the curse struck Ironforge and I felt compelled to stay. Now I see why.”

  “Callaluna,” Sagen prompted, jabbing me in the side. “Or Rybet or whatever your name is.”

  “What?” I snapped back at her with a frown.

  She glared at me. “Take the damn crown. It’s what we came for, isn’t it?”

  My hand reached forward toward the golden artefact, but then I hesitated. “Why aren’t you trying to take it?” I asked the princess with suspicion, but she just sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically.

  “She can’t,” Rema answered for her. “It’s the same reason why I’ve been able to keep it safe all these years. Only you can touch it.”

  “Why me?” I demanded, even though the mark on my back was practically burning with intuition, and deep down, I think I knew.

  Rema leaned closer. “Take the crown and find out.”

  “It’s that easy?” I pushed, and she chuckled.

  “Nothing is ever that easy, Rybet Waise,” she said. “But we simply don’t have time for lengthy explanations and long-winded, soul-searching debates. This is the quickest way. Take the crown and see for yourself.”

  The mark on my back was buzzing, filling me with resolute confidence. The high priestess of Barmzig could be trusted, of that I was sure, thanks to my intuition. But that didn’t necessarily mean she was right.

  “Come on,” Sagen groaned. “I’m dying to get back and tell your princes that you’re from the Pond.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I snapped back at her with a glare, and her smirk said she didn’t give two shits for my threats.

  Rema let out a small growl that brought my attention back to her. “Please. We don’t have much time.”

  I swallowed past my instinct to question her further and stretched my hand out once more. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

  Oh, I don’t know. You could explode into red goo splattered all over Rema’s pretty dress, for starters.

  The sarcastic, panicked part of me was too slow in its warning, though, as my fingers closed around the warm, humming metal of Queen Ophelia’s crown.

  20

  “Who are you?” I asked the excited, grinning woman in front of me, then looked around to find I was no longer in Priestess Rema’s mine shaft. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

  The beautiful woman’s smile fell, and her shoulders slumped somewhat. “You don’t recognize me. Of course you don’t.” She shook her head like she was berating herself mentally.

  I wrinkled my nose, inspecting her features. She was tall for a woman, with an enviable hourglass figure and long, elegant neck. Her hair was pale, winter-sunlight blond—almost the same shade as my own—but instead of my wild waves, her locks were smooth and straight like a sheet of silk.

  Something about her seemed familiar.

  “Should I recognize you?” I asked, worrying for a moment that I’d just forgotten meeting her somewhere along the way. But I’d remember a woman like this. She was regal and elegant, beautiful and enigmatic. Like a queen.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “Queen Ophelia?” I gasped the words, and her smile lit back up. “How is this possible? You’re dead!”

  She winced at my harsh statement. “I guess I am. How else would you be here, after all?”

  “And here is... where exactly?” I took a better look around, frowning at a familiar-looking chair, then a lamp. “Wait, I know this place. We’re in your sanctuary at the palace!”

  Queen Ophelia beamed and let out a heavy sigh. “Oh thank Barmzig, my sanctuary is still there? And you’ve been inside it?”

  “Uh.” I wrinkled my nose again, noticing the many, many differences between the room we stood in versus the dust-covered, run-down, overgrown, and forgotten building that the princes had adopted as their hideout. “It’s... not quite the same as this.”

  Queen Ophelia shook her head dismissively. “Doesn’t matter what it looks like inside, so long as the structure itself is still there. That means no one has discovered what’s below it.”

  My brows shot up. “What’s below it?” Curiosity burned, but the whole situation was off. “Wait. Explain to me what’s going on. How am I here with you... a dead queen? The last thing I remember was being inside an iron mine about to touch your missing crown.”

  She pursed her lips and perched on the edge of a vibrant, sapphire-colored chair. “You’re cautious. That’s a good quality to have. Please, sit down, and I’ll do my best to explain within the time that we have.” She waved a hand to the seat opposite her, and I hesitated a moment before sitting.

  “When I was still alive”—she grimaced at this—“I knew I was in trouble. Something bad was going to happen, so I built a little trapdoor spell into my strongest magical artifact.”

  I nodded. “Your crown.”

  She smiled. “Exactly that. I embedded just a tiny fraction of my soul into it so that one day when it returned to rightful hands, we would be able to have this conversation.”

  “Rightful hands,” I repeated, pursing my lips. “And that’s mine? Rema said that no one else could touch the crown...”

  Queen Ophelia laughed a warm, comforting sound that made me almost want to cry. “Of course. You’re my only heir, Zarina. What more rightful hands could there be?”

  I choked on air for a moment, spluttering as I tried to get words out.

  “Excuse me?” I finally squeaked out, my face flushed and eyes damp from my little coughing fit. “You must be mistaken.”

  Ophelia gave me a small, sad smile, then produced a hand mirror and passed it to me. “Even if I hadn’t keyed my crown specifically to you, it wouldn’t take a genius to see the resemblance. We’re quite clearly cut from the same cloth, sweetheart.”

  Reluctantly, I peered down into the mirror and couldn’t deny the truth of her statement. Sure, she was more elegant, older, and had green eyes instead of my blue. But everything else was the same. Our high cheekbones, the angles of our noses, the curves of our lips... all identical.

  “How...” I trailed off as tears choked my throat. This was my mother?

  In all my years living in the Pond as an orphan, as a Waise, I’d never for a second considered I might one day meet the woman who’d brought me to life—let alone that she might be the murdered queen of Teich.

  “Oh honey,” she sighed, reaching forward to clasp my hands in hers when I laid the mirror down. “I am so sorry. I wish I could give you more answers, but this version of me is just a snippet of who I was when I cast this spell. Right now, as far as I’m aware, you’re just a week old and fast asleep in your crib.”

  The mark on my shoulder blade tingled, and I sniffed back the tears that were threatening to fall. “Did I have this mark when I was a baby?” I asked, shifting in my seat to show her my back. I still wore the emerald riding dress, and despite the fact that it was stained and dirt-crusted, it revealed my mark easily when I moved my hair.

  Ophelia touched a cool finger to my mark, and it buzzed in response to her. Like it knew her. For a long moment, she said nothing, then she let out a small sob, and I spun to face her.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered, tears running down her face.

  “What for?” I demanded, panic rising within me and threatening to overwhelm me. “What is this mark? It’s got something to do with the gods, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded, swallowing heavily and dabbing her face with a scrap of lacy fabric. “All the gods have their own unique marks. It’s how they used to claim ownership of mortals way back in the day whe
n they ruled our lands. Back when they were permitted to roam freely.” Her gaze slipped back to my shoulder, even though I was now facing her. “That one is my mark.”

  My jaw dropped. “You’re a god?” I squeaked in shock.

  “No,” she replied with a small laugh. “Not the way you know them. Technically I am—was—a demi. Way back through our family line, one of our ancestors had an affair with a god. It managed to escape notice for a long, long time, but the knowledge was passed down from mother to daughter in the matriarchal line. No matter how far removed from the original god we are, our magic level remains the same.”

  “That’s why your line has always been the strongest ruling monarchy?” I gaped at the knowledge. “That’s why the magic imploded when you were killed?”

  Ophelia grimaced. “Is that what happened?”

  I nodded, feeling a bit bad for the insensitive way I was speaking of her murder. But despite her revelations, she was still little more than a stranger to me.

  “That would be from something else,” she commented, looking thoughtful. “When I built this spell, it was because I suspected someone was messing around with the natural magic within Teich. I knew it was going to cause problems, and a priestess had already foretold my death was imminent.”

  I frowned, shaking my head. “Messing with it? How?”

  She shrugged. “I wish I knew. Siphoning it, maybe? Whatever it was, it was causing ripples. If it got worse after my death, then maybe whoever killed me is responsible. Anyway, what you need to know is that you’re bearing my mark on your back and it’s still clear after, what, twenty-odd years?”

  “Eighteen,” I murmured, correcting her as to my age.