Nekane turned and ran back down the tower, through the halls, and into his chambers, the only place he had kept clean and out of disarray. He pulled open his large wooden closet and stared at the armor gleaming from inside. Every day for centuries he pulled the armor out and polished it, knowing one day he would again feel the cold steel over his shoulders, and that day had arrived. He turned and grabbed his wash bowl, sitting down in front of the mirror and beginning to shave his face. However, as he brought the straight razor close, he realized he would not need to be clean shaven, he would not need to wash the dirt from his brow. His only purpose to find this child, and end it before it too could become part of the Dead King’s nefarious scheme. Inside, Nekane hoped that by ending all ties to the Dead King, all bloodlines, he would be freed from his immortality, left to roam the lands until an honorable death could take him.
He donned his armor, and stood, looking at himself, in a glory he once knew, the stains of the last battle still covering the cloth that hung beneath his armor. He had no men to rally, no flags to fly, no Kingdom to cheer him as he loaded onto his ship. He took little provisions as he loaded his horse and rode down the steep steps of the cliff dwelling castle, not wanting to look back at the palace behind him. He didn’t know if he would ever see his warm lands again, but that did not break him from his stride. He was determined to push forward, marching into the darkness alone. He didn’t fear death like the others but instead welcomed it with open arms, wanting so badly to enter the afterlife and see those he loved once again.
He did the work of forty men, readying his ship for sail, pulling the masses, and steadying the wheel of the ship, setting course for a place he vowed to never go again. As he pushed off from the pier, the sun had sunken deep beneath the horizon, and he played out the visions that he had been seeing for several days. The child’s eyes, glowing red beneath the deep hazel, blew in his mind, etched into his memory. He knew he had to get to the realm, unaware of how it stood and where the risen Dead King was. He knew he had to find this child, and once in his arms, end its life swiftly and without thought, as it held the Dead King’s future in its breast.
Chapter Five: The Dead King’s Orders
“Anum Orum, Devu,” Aralea mumbled, her visions getting deeper and deeper as Asphodul wiped her forehead with a wet cloth.
“Shhh,” she sang. “It will all be over soon. I promise.”
Asphodul looked down at the wizard Queen, unsure of what was to come. She knew a baby was to be born that eve but she wasn’t sure of whether it would be the next wizarding child or the Dead Child that arose. From Asphodul’s prior visions she knew that only one child would survive but she always thought it would be Aralea’s. From the way things were looking, Asphodul was not all that sure in whether Leonetta and the Wolf King had met their destination or not. All she could do was keep Aralea comfortable and wait.
Outside she could hear the others murmuring, wondering what was happening inside the chambers. With Aralea’s visions, she knew she had to keep her from the others or fear may drive them to do something they would otherwise never do. The language of the Dead was terrifying and she knew if they thought Aralea were possessed, they would end hers and her child’s life before it ever had a chance to blossom. What Asphodul couldn’t understand was why Aralea felt her child needed to be protected. She was to be the Queen one day and would, therefore, be honored with every luxury that a princess would normally be offered, even if she were not in her homeland. The Fae Kingdom had already arranged for a nurse maid, a chamber for the child, schooling, and everything else she would need in the case that the wizarding family were to stay with the Fae for a long period of time.
However, Asphodul did not fully know what Aralea was seeing in her visions. She did not know what prompted her to believe she would not be here to defend her own child and Asphodul knew that it was dangerous to question visions. So, there she was keeping everyone at bay and waiting for the child to arrive. She knew whatever circumstance that baby came in, she was destined to care for her. Asphodul had made a promise, and in the kingdom of the Fae, that was stronger than any signed contract or handshake.
Asphodul, as soon as Aralea was once again asleep, wandered over to the window and looked out toward Pero Peaks. The colors were swirling vibrantly and she knew that there was definitely something happening with Malaya and the Dead Child. Asphodul put her hands on the window sill and closed her eyes, breathing in the misty air. She could feel Leonetta but couldn’t tell where she was. All she knew was that her sister was alive, and if she were alive, that meant she was surging toward fulfilling the prophecy. At that time, that was all the comfort that Asphodul could have. She turned quickly at the sound of Aralea’s screams.
She rushed to the wizarding Queen’s side and bent down, listening to her breathing. She moved to the front of Aralea and looked down, checking on the baby’s progress. She was coming and coming very soon.
“Hurry Leonetta,” Asphodul whispered. “There isn’t much time left.”
Asphodul looked down as Aralea opened her eyes, staring up at her, tear’s filling her eyes. She had a look of knowing, a knowledge that Asphodul didn’t even have. She writhed and wiggled in pain as more contractions beat down on her small but mighty body. The sounds of shrieking pulsed into Asphodul’s ears but she quickly realized they were not only coming from Aralea. She raced to the window and listened as the sounds of Malaya’s screams floated through the air, echoing across the entire realm. The Dead Child was nearly here, and Asphodul had not seen any sign from the Wolf King or from the Dead King, that all was well. She felt completely helpless, unable to do anything but sit and hold Aralea’s hand, hoping this was all a mere coincidence.
Asphodul heard a loud knock on the door and hurried over cracking it slightly to see Tyriad’s face. She shook her head up and down to signify that she had heard the cries coming from the distance. Tyriad looked deep into her eyes, understanding that whatever was to come next, Asphodul would have to do it on her own. A sign of apology crossed his face after treating her so poorly in recent days. She reached up and touched his cheek, no words needed to portray what she was feeling. There had been so much sadness, so much anger, that she knew it had to have been hard on him as well. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell Tyriad how much she loved him, not knowing if she would have another chance, but before she could, Aralea screamed out behind her. Asphodul turned, frightened by the shriek, and closed the door, realizing she needed to be ready.
She looked down in Aralea’s eyes with sadness, feeling her life force growing weak. By the end of it all, there would be at least one babe, but that child would go on without a mother. Asphodul had promised she would take care of Aralea’s child no matter what, but that unknown was terrifying her to no end. As Aralea writhed in her bed, the sounds of Malaya’s screams could be heard in the distance, sending shivers up Asphodul’s spine. Something big was about to happen, she just didn’t know what.
***
“Where is he?” Malaya screamed out, just recovering from another round of contractions. They were getting worse, way worse, but even more than that, Malaya could sense that her time alive was getting shorter and shorter.
“He gave strict instructions,” the nurse said wiping her forehead.
“I don’t give a damn…,” Malaya screamed, looking up as the door flung open.
“You must relax,” Ghede said, floating toward Malaya. “This child will either come peacefully or by force.”
“Your Grace,” Malaya panted motioning for him to get closer. “There is an enemy in our castle. I can feel that my life and the life of our child is in danger. I have seen the visions.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes,” she groaned. “Absolute.”
“Focus,” Ghede growled. “I will take care of this mess.”
“Please,” Malaya whispered. “Protect us.”
“Guard,” Ghede yelled toward the door guard. “Go, fetch six men, join the crews searching
the castle. Nurse, you better be ready for this. If someone comes in, you know what you are to do.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said bowing.
Ghede stood for a moment looking over at the table where a glass of water stood. He waited, staring at the still water, unsure of what he might have just heard. As he turned to walk away a loud rumble shook the castle walls, sending the glass tumbling to the ground. The glass shattered across the floor and Malaya reached down, grabbing the sides of the bed, screeching in pain. Ghede glanced back up at Malaya and back to the nurse.
“If it comes to it, cut the baby out,” he growled before walking back through the door and slamming it shut.
“Don’t come anywhere near me,” Malaya screamed. “You will not cut this baby out.”
“Concentrate and worry less about me and more about getting that child out of you,” she snapped, looking down at the knife sitting on the counter.
“Anum Orum, Devu,” Malaya mumbled, rubbing her belly. “Sweet child please come soon. If I don’t hold you in my arms know you are destined for great things. Only you can decide what kind of person you become, there is no legacy that will dictate that.”
“Quiet,” the nurse said pointing her finger at Malaya angrily. “That child will rule the realms at the side of the Dead King. You will only be there if it permits you to.”
Malaya hissed at the nurse and laid her head back on the pillow, years of fighting for her throne catching up with her in the blink of an eye. She couldn’t help but ask herself what she had done. There had been so many opportunities for her to move forward onto greater things, yet she chose evil over good. Now, she lay in the center of a volcano, her child possessed by the blood of the Dead King, and she felt like nothing more than a capsule to incubate the child. She was sure that once the child was born, she would be killed, and the child would grow to show the end of days to all living creatures. The vision that she had was not real, and she had been lied to all along. There was no ruling the lands in peace with others, it was a scheme to take over, extinguish other races, and take the rest as slaves. Malaya shook her head back and forth, tears filling her eyes.
“What have I done?”
“Exactly what you set out to do,” the nurse said, with her back turned to Malaya.
The Dead Queen looked up in horror as the nurse turned back toward her holding a large steel dagger in her right hand. Where her plain human face once was, she was now possessed with the Dark King’s magic, her eye sockets empty and her smile missing several teeth. Malaya panicked but looked down, finding her hands and ankles magically strapped to the bed. The nurse’s long snake like tongue flickered in and out of her mouth as she walked forward, an evil chuckle coming from her throat.
“You didn’t think you would actually live did you?” The Witch laughed loudly. “All that is important is that child. You are nothing but an afterthought.”
“Stop,” Malaya screamed, trying to summon the Dead King.
“Silly child,” the witch cackled. “Who do you think ordered your death? Now hold still, it’s time for that baby to be born. Trust me, it will only hurt a bit.”
Chapter Six: Redemption
Pike held tightly to Barimus as they slunk through the halls and up the stairs. As they approached the door leading to the royal hall, where Malaya would be preparing for birth, Pike could sense the Dead King. His skin peppered with goosebumps and he could feel a tightness in his chest, rising high into his throat. The dragon stopped and Pike climbed down, joining Helena at the door. Pike threw his hood up and cracked the door peering out into the hallway. It was obvious which room Malaya was in by the large ornate doors and the sounds of scream radiating through. To the left was Ghede, pacing and yelling at a group of orcs nearby. He walked off down the hall and into a large room to the left. Pike closed the door and looked at Helena, seeing the determination in her eyes.
“I’m going to go after Ghede,” Pike whispered. “You know what you need to do. And Barimus, once Helena is inside Malaya’s chambers, I need you to watch the doors, making sure no one gets in.”
“It would be my honor,” Barimus bellowed.
“Be careful in there,” Pike said turning back to Helena. “I want to have a cup of meade with you when this is all over.”
“You bet your ass,” Helena chuckled.
The two looked at each other for several moments, their eyes speaking a thousand words. Pike reached up and pulled his hood over his head, disappearing from sight. He turned and slowly crept out of the door and walked forward, stopping to watch as Helena, invisible to everyone, cracked Malaya’s door and slid inside. Once he knew she was safely on her way to completing her end of the prophecy, Pike walked slowly forward and turned into the large meeting room. Ghede turned around, sensing someone’s presence but Pike was still shielded by his cloak. The Dead King looked angry, almost frustrated, and Pike waited until he turned back toward the table before pulling his hood down and quietly pulling his sword free. He stepped forward but stopped at the sound of Ghede’s voice.
“I knew you would come, Wolf King,” Ghede said calmly. “You’ve given us quite the runaround today.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Pike replied.
“I knew you were here when you sent your wife to the next world,” Ghede chuckled.
“I didn’t, you did,” Pike said angrily.
“She would have stayed my prisoner had you not entered in unknowingly,” Ghede laughed. “She was spelled to burn in flames as soon as your presence was sensed within the castle walls.”
Ghede turned and stared at Pike in the face, watching his expression slowly sulk. Pike grasped his sword tightly, his mind whirling around the idea that he had caused his own Shayla’s death. Ghede tilted his head and smiled.
“Your Fae leader didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Pike was furious.
“That Shayla was destined to die? She saw it in her visions,” Ghede said coyly.
“That’s a lie,” Pike shouted.
“No lie,” Ghede replied. “I guess they figured you needed a little push to thrust that sword toward me.”
“Truth or not,” Pike stated. “My sword knows there is only one path it should take, and that is straight through your black heart.”
“Well then,” Ghede taunted. “What are you waiting for?”
Pike screamed loudly as he ran toward Ghede, his sword high in the air. Ghede swiped his arm through the air sending Pike hurtling into the wall, the sword clanging loudly against the stone floors. The Wolf King groaned as he picked himself up, grabbing his sword and taking an offensive stance. He lunged forward pushing the sword toward Ghede, but only stumbled as Ghede disappeared and reappeared across the room, a deep laugh bellowing from his chest.
“They didn’t train you very well now did they?”
Pike stood taking in a deep breath, tapping the tip of the sword on the ground. He knew he was allowing his emotions to get the best of him instead of standing up and fighting like he knew he needed to. Ghede turned, watching Pike’s face go dark and clapping his hands together loudly. The Dead King began to grow weary of the games and flashed forward, grabbing Pike by the neck and slamming him against the ground. Pike growled, trying to get free as Ghede’s face moved closer and closer to his. Pike could smell the mixture of ash, cinder, and death that emanated from Ghede and he closed his fist, pushing his energy through his arm. He swung high hitting Ghede in the head and causing him to fall backward.
Pike scrambled to his feet, still clutching his sword as Ghede stood, anger now replacing the smug smile on his face. He shook his head and lunged at Pike hitting him hard across the chest. Pike fell backward, his hand hitting the hard stone ground, and the sword bouncing over toward the wall. Ghede stepped down on his chest and looked at his face. He turned his head from side to side curious of the look on Pike’s face and the magic that he produced. Pike realized Ghede wasn’t aware of the powers that he had come to know, and that gave
him a huge advantage. Pike reached up and caught the Dead King at the knee, causing him to fall backward into the table. He backed up to the other side of the room and took in a deep breath, pulling his energy to his chest. Ghede looked up with wide eyes as Pike pulled a large glowing orb from his chest and hurled it at his head. Ghede dove to the right, the large orb barely missing him and instead crashing into the wall, knocking chunks of rock to the ground.
“Impressive,” Ghede growled.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Pike replied.
The two swirled around the room, exchanging blasts of power, some hitting each other, the others whirling through the room, destroying anything in its path. They were fighting for freedom, for death, for everything that made life worth living. Little did Ghede know that his future sat perched in the other room, stalked by the fae, protected by only one.
***
Helena pushed her back against the wooden door staring at the scene before her. A witch, clothed in the tattered robes of the dead crept forward toward Malaya holding a dagger in her hand. Malaya growled, twisting her body against the leather straps that bound her, begging the witch to leave her be. The scene was almost sad, but Helena knew what lingered beneath the stretched skin of Malaya’s belly, and she knew it couldn’t come to be.
“Stop,” Helena shouted out.
The witch froze, turning swiftly around and staring at the fae. Though where her eyes should be there were only empty red sockets, Helena knew that the witch could see her. She held tightly to the sword in her hand and perched for a fight. The witch hissed and growled walking slowly toward Helena, her dagger tight in her palm.
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