Perhaps, it would be just enough for her to sneak in through the door. It was not a considerably well planned idea, but it was what she had available to her, and behind her the horses clambered to get loose. Even as an invisible person, this was certainly the most dangerous thing she’d ever undertaken.
During the Giant War, when she and her mother were forced to run for shelter from the fire boulders, that too was also dangerous. However, that was not planned for, and this instance was. And it will always take a good deal more courage to do something foolishly dangerous, when it is planned, than when it happens by surprise.
A quarter horse nudged at her back, in a brief second it was half-disappeared, and then it came back into view suddenly. They were becoming more restless, and less afraid of her invisibility by the second. And the only one of them left in her stall was Myre, and simply because Tavora had not wanted to lose her.
Go and save Ata, that terribly arrogant boy, she thought, recounting her plan in her head. Then the globe, and after that, if there was time, her father, whom she would just as well have left behind, except that on principle she had decided that if the opportunity presented itself, then she might as well try. And after that, back to the stable to rescue Myre, who was certainly the most innocent party in all of this, and then they would simply ride away out of this enemy’s city, across the desert fields, and back home to safety. It was a foul plan; An impossible, ghastly stratagem, but what other choice did she have.
In that moment, she closed her eyes to gather up her courage.
���O God of our ancestors… Please don’t let me die,��� she said in her mind, as a thought or a prayer. And she swung the gate open, releasing a stream of eager horses into the street.
It took no time at all for confusion to spill out of the stables. A stampede of wild horses went charging past the palace doors.
���Who’s done that? How’d they get loose?��� one of the guards shouted, above the clashing of hooves.
Things had gone on better than she could have hoped. It was absolute madness in the streets. Yet, perhaps the most bizarre thing in all this, was that that group of merchants who’d been steadily walking toward her did not turn to run, but instead ran at a full sprint toward the palace door when they saw the horses charging.
One of these merchants, while running, fired an arrow from a hidden bow that had been tucked beneath her outer coat, and upon firing the woman pulled back her hood, and Tavora recognized her immediately. It was Delany, Queen of Gleomu, and her expertly placed arrow buried deep into the wood of the palace door as the bumbling guards tried to escape inside, away from the horses.
In no time at all, Delany, and the two other false merchants with her, ran and caught the guards before they could enter the palace. She had another arrow ready on her string.
���Run away,��� she said to the men, who were shaking in their scaled armor. ���I’ll give you one chance,��� she said again, with the point of her arrow a hand’s breadth away from a guard���s nose. ���Now, please, we’re in a bit of a hurry,��� she said smiling, and in her own graceful manner.
���It’s not worth it,��� the other guard said to his companion, pulling him away from the Queen’s arrow, and both men fled downhill, toward the direction of the horses.
If Tavora had not been invisible, her shock would have been apparent to anyone. She could not believe it, a royal rescue party had come to their aid; And if there were anything that Tavora had felt that she’d needed in that moment, it was a rescue.
She followed the three of them in through the doorway, into that dim palace house with all bare stone walls. It was almost completely silent. This rescue party did not speak to each other in words, but used military hand signals. And she was not sure how she knew this, but she was fairly confident that, of the two remaining search party members, one of them had been women, and the last one had been a portly old man.
Lightly and delicately placing her footsteps, Tavora still made the slightest patter on the hallway floor, so that every now and then this military rescue party would stop to check behind themselves, knowing that they’d surely heard footsteps following behind them but seeing no one.
And they continued on, through the disturbingly vacant and twisting hallway, passing closed doors, and moving cautiously toward the end of the hall where the King’s throne room would be.
The door to the throne room was closed, but unlocked. Not very much light shone beneath the door, so that they might assume that the room was empty. However, even so, the rescue party stopped, and crouched before crossing the threshold of those double wood doors.
Tavora could hear the chubby man’s voice speak up, sounding obviously nervous, even while whispering.
���Shouldn’t there have been more of a fight?��� he asked. ���I mean, there were hardly any guards at all,��� he said, addressing his statements to Queen Delany, but in a way that it could be clearly seen that he was a man of importance himself, or else he would not have been so familiar in the way that he spoke with the Queen.
���Without question,��� Delany replied.
���Then this is trap?��� he asked.
���Of course it is, dear,��� the other false merchant answered. This was a woman’s voice, and somehow vaguely familiar to Tavora, and it took her several seconds to place the hooded figure’s voice with a face.
���Why didn’t I realize this before?��� Tavora thought. After coming to the logical conclusion that the other woman’s voice must be that of Matilde, the Queen of Earth, whom Tavora had always thought was such an elegant speaker, poised and graceful, so that she had for a long time hoped to meet her. And so knowing this, that would mean that the nervous man’s voice would be that of King Wilbur of Earth, whom Tavora had always considered to be an odd pudgy old king, but with the kindest eyes, so that she would have almost thought the two of them to be friends, except for the fact that they’d also never actually met, in any significant way.
(Unless you were to count the time, several years ago, when King Wilbur had happened into the merchant district one morning to buy a bracelet for Queen Matilde, and not for any special ceremony or circumstance, but only because he thought she might like one. And as the King meandered through tents, and gazed across tables of intricate jeweleries, he came to Tavora’s simple table. ���Now that’s it,��� he said, staring lovingly at a gold-vined bracelet with inset emeralds. ���She’ll absolutely love it,��� he said aloud, and somewhat to Tavora. ���Do you make these yourself?��� he asked. ���No, Your Majesty, they’re my father’s handiwork,��� she answered shyly. ���Well, tell him he does exceptional work,��� Wilbur said, handing her twice the amount listed on the tag. ���Thank you,��� Tavora replied. And as Tavora remembered this interaction, considering the images in her memory, and those of her father’s jubilant smile that evening when she’d returned, she realized suddenly, that that instance might have been the very last time her father was ever pleased with her. And so, as much as you can love a memory, and hate it all at the same time, these were her emotions at this moment.)
���Alright,��� King Wilbur said, gathering his determination. ���As long as we know what we’re up against.���
He shoved open the doors to find a room that seemed entirely, and eerily vacant. And in the mid-region of the room, not so far away from the Desert King’s unpadded and shabby wooden throne, was their lost globe, in appearance unguarded and ripe for the taking.
Yet, even Tavora, who had never fought in any battle, herself, could see a trap when there was one, especially such an obvious trap as this.
With movements as swift and noiseless as breaths of wind, Queen Delany readied an arrow on her string, pulling back so that she could fire at any moment. Tavora could hear the tension as it stretched upon the bow string. And she (the Queen), King Wilbur with a sword drawn
, and Queen Matilde, with two daggers clutched in her hands, stepped inside, while Tavora waited in the doorway, invisible, and selfishly grateful for that.
Their footsteps were as light as air, all of them except for Wilbur, who was really a much better pilot and doctor than he was a fighter; They crept into the room.
Quickly to the globe, Matilde began to turn the crank, charging the inner workings of the device, which ticked and whirled. A pulsating bright light from the globe began to slowly illuminate all the dark places in the room, which were many.
Just a minute longer and they could take this globe back with them, flying home to Gleomu. They could end this war before it even began. A worthy and admirable goal, which Tavora had almost begun to hope for, until she heard a frightful unfeeling laugh coming from behind the King’s throne.
The laugh grew louder, as if it didn’t care how abrasive it sounded, as if it enjoyed the unpleasantness.
���Did you really think we’d be so ill prepared?��� the Desert King said, still chuckling and stepping out from behind his shabby throne.
In a second, Queen Delany spun around and had the point of her arrow trained upon the Desert King’s forehead.
���That’s where you’re wrong,��� Delany said. ���We only need to kill you,��� she said, placing the string up to her cheek, ready to let it fly, to end any chance of impending war; And knowing that without their king this desert tribe would battle amongst themselves, vying for the vacant kingship, and could be easily overtaken.
���Go ahead, if you’d like,��� this desert king said with apathy. ���But you’d never all make it out of here alive…���
He paused, looking toward the dark corners of the room. And as he did, the room began to light with torches, showing a company of armed soldiers with their arrows set on their bows, and with razor sharp swords that reflected the torchlight.
���Do you see what I mean?��� the Desert King said, motioning toward his waiting guards.
Wilbur spoke up. ���We don’t care… as long as the people of Gleomu are safe, that’s all we care about,��� he said, taking a step toward the Desert King to show his sincerity.
Shaking his head, while leaning his weight against the side of his empty throne, the Desert King replied, ���Such a fat and principled little king, aren’t you?… Tell me, Wilbur, is Earth so childish now, that they’d blindly follow such a paltry king, as yourself?���
At that, Wilbur took a step backward, in careful consideration of the Desert King’s words.
���But, no matter…��� the Desert King said, as he took a dagger from its sheath, and reaching behind his throne he began to pull at something, that squirmed, and half-heartedly fought back.
���I suspected as much, that you wouldn’t show regard for your own weak lives,��� he said, pulling a familiar boy into the flickering torchlight by his hair. ���So I kept this,��� he said, holding Ata between Delany’s pointed arrow and himself. ���And even though it pained me to keep him alive, I thought he might be of some usefulness,��� he said.
���And so, now that I have clearly the upper hand, I will make my demands,��� he said, speaking to Queen Delany.
���Though, first of all, tell your husband that he is a coward to send his wife to do his work. And secondly, tell him that we have the globe now, and we know how to use it, and that if he tries to attack again, or is in any way hostile to our advances, I will personally slay every man, woman, and sniveling child in Gleomu.���
���Is that all?��� Delay said, sarcastically, as if the Desert King could never accomplish this.
���No, actually,��� he replied, holding Ata’s hair more tightly so that the boy’s face winced in pain. At this point, Tavora almost yelled out for him to stop, except that she immediately remembered that she was invisible, and that this would be a terrible idea.
The Desert King took in a deep breath to continue with his demands. ���And as for you,��� he said, glaring at Wilbur.
���You will surrender Earth to me immediately, or I will kill your Queen,��� he paused. Then started again, ���No, no… why delay the inevitable,��� he said with a smile.
���Ekallu,��� he said, calling his chief army captain by name. ���Fire at the woman,��� he ordered.
Tavora heard the string of a bow tightening. She had to do something to cause a distraction; Something at once. Turning around she saw behind her, a pitcher of stale water on a lone entry table, that would have to do.
She snatched it from the table. For the smallest part of a second, the pitcher and the water within it became invisible in her hands. And then it was hurled with all her strength, and with a surprising amount of accuracy toward the military chief as he alined his shot.
And at that exact same instant, there was something else that had happened, of which I feel I must tell you… and after this, I promise to return to that flying pitcher of water.
At that same moment, King Wilbur, who was not a clever fighter but brave nonetheless, he reached toward Matilde pulling her behind himself, to stand between the archer’s deadly aim and his queen. Also, Queen Delany spun around, but with the mixture of the dimly lit room and the torchlight in her eyes, she could not find a decent target, knowing that any of those shadowy figures might be the one ready to fire on her lifelong friend.
And now, once again, we return to the hurtling water pitcher:
It was thrown through the air, as if appearing from nowhere. Its speed, and the harshness of Tavora’s throw keeping every drop of water inside the pitcher. So that, consequently, it was its heaviest. Slamming against the jaw of the chief, it shattered, both the clay jar and several of Ekallu’s teeth, splashing a sloshing spray of water tinged with blood all over a line of men, and extinguishing several torches all at once.
With such a fine distraction, Matilde and Delany knew far better than to stand ambling about, waiting to become the next target of the Desert King’s fickle temper.
���Come on, dear,��� Queen Matilde said, pulling at Wilbur for him to hurry.
Yet, Delany was already running at a full sprint toward the doorway with her arrow still on its string. She reached the threshold, nearly barreling into Tavora, who was still, as you should remember, invisible.
Then, turning back toward the Desert King, she set her stance in a half-second and fired a shot with precision aim into the Desert King’s exposed calf.
He yelled in excruciating pain, briefly pulling at Ata’s hair all the harder, before releasing enough for the boy to break free of the king’s grasp.
Arrows shot chaotically across the room, missing Wilbur and Matilde, but coming far to close to Ata. He ducked behind the globe, away from the arrows. His head throbbing, fairly convinced that he’d lost bits of his hair. And he knew without his mechanical ball, which had been take from him, that he stood no chance of escaping.
���I surrender,��� he said, raising his hands timidly, just above his head. ���I surrender.���
And seeing they could do no more good, this unsuccessful search party sprinted through the hall, leaving Tavora alone in the doorway to witness Ata’s capture, for the second time in two days.
���Should I cut his throat, Your Eminence?��� one of the guards asked, holding Ata by the arm.
���Leave him,��� the Desert King screeched in agony, hobbling over to the globe setting its dials. ���I’ll do it myself, when I return… I want to be able to enjoy it,��� he said.
���And find that intruder, whomever it was that threw that pitcher,��� he yelled, reaching down to begin winding the globe’s brass crank.
The globe came alive with choir like sounds, splashing bands of light against the walls of the throne room. And although it was undeniably beautiful, it was also ominous and threatening, like the beauty of a light
ning storm, or the grandeur of an erupting volcano.
So that when held within the wrong hands, even the splendor of the globe was made sinister, and deathly frightening.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A Dark Palace
Her breath panted in her chest, as she pressed herself into the corner of the hallway. Hefty soldiers passed only inches away from her. If any of them had but barely touched her, she would have been found in an instant, but so far none of them had.
After the horribly injured king and his bloodied chief officer had left, flying from that world, locked within the safety of a light orb, and shattering a portion of the roof in his own throne room with their departure, letting the broken bits of debris fall around his men, which none of them had any intention of cleaning up; After this, Ata was dragged away and down a set of stairs to a lower level of the palace, where even from her hiding place Tavora could still hear the thunderous slamming of a solid wood door that echoed, returning up the stairway and beating against the undecorated walls, until it reached her disheartened ears.
Its sound was so final, so permanent, that she’d almost thought to give up any hope of rescue.
Yet then again, she was still invisible, and things that would seem impossible for the seen person, should not be thought of that way for the unseen. And so there was a better part of her that decided to still keep her hope, however dangerous or unattainable it now seemed.
She stood perfectly still with a racing heart, until the palace hallways were again quiet and vacant, and waiting for what seemed like hours. Though in all honesty, it was not more than a single hour.
By this time the sun had set on the palace, so that whatever small windows there were in that large house were darkened, and this was not the sort of place that cared much for lanterns or candles, and so the halls of the palace became very black indeed.
Which is another way to say, that even if Tavora hadn’t been completely invisible at the moment, there would still be little chance of her being found. Yet, to avoid being noticed in the now noiseless halls, she kicked off her shoes, stowing them under a table in the King’s throne room.
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 52