War Against the Realm

by Sherri Beth Mitchell

  “I’m tired of this hunting…be still so I can kill you now!”

  Alarmed, Dalton threw open the tent flap and rushed in with his dagger drawn.

  Keelan stood over the sleeping queen, his sword tip preparing to come down upon his wife.

  Chapter Thirteen: Bringer of the Gods

  Quentin looked out at the terrain beyond the city. His horse fidgeted beneath him, sensing his eagerness to start their journey. Emaree sat next to him on a dirt-brown mare that had seen better years, and Aldoa was on a stallion on the other side of her. He glanced back at the small troupe of people behind them and raised his hand in a fist, gathering everyone’s attention. He turned his horse sideways to better see the company.

  “Today we ride to catch up, though the sun has barely lit the skies. Our pace will be hard, and you must think of us as always being behind. The more we stop to rest, the further behind we get. Breaks will be determined by the animals and if they need respite for a bit. Otherwise, we push until we can’t push anymore—even into the night. The goal is to reach my brother and his wife—the Lystian Royals who are headed for war. If you’re not ready to fight and die, then stay here so you don’t drag us down. Those who know they are ready….ride!”

  He winked at Emaree and kicked his heels into the horse’s flanks. She followed suite, albeit a bit more clumsily, and caught up with him. It was her first time being on a horse in decades, and he could tell it was exciting for her. Aldoa could travel as fast as she wanted, being a goddess, but chose to ride with them for their task. She’d said she wanted to keep a close eye on Quentin and Emaree, for they had both been on the brink of death when she’d saved them.

  Quentin didn’t want to mention it, but he wondered if she was still recovering herself; the magic she’d used had drained her terribly. Her face was a bit tired and her shoulders slumped too. He hoped she’d be fully improved by the time they got to Keelan.

  The early morning wind was nice and crisp, and blew his white hair back from his face. They swiftly passed by a cart pulled by a young gelding, hauling a few days’ worth of food for the troupe. The lumpy provisions were covered with a blanket and the back end of the cart had been boarded up so that more food could be added.

  He passed the cart at the full speed of the horse, not noticing a small hand move the blanket to watch him go by.

  Saris brought a tray of food to Natosha’s bedchambers. Her sister eyed the food warily.

  “How do I know you’re not poisoning me as we did our sister-wife?”

  “We never sickened her when she was with Rohedon’s children,” Saris retorted.

  “But this is not one of Rohedon’s children,” said Natosha. “Moreover, you are angry with me…and I know how you get when you’re angry.”

  “Hush, girl, and eat. My feelings toward you have nothing to do with the food I’m trying to sustain you with. I know you haven’t eaten today, and you cannot go without food.”

  Her twin grimaced. “I’m afraid that I am too sick to eat. I can’t keep anything down.”

  “I don’t know if I should believe you,” said Saris. “You lie about so many things as it is.”

  “Why would I lie about not being able to eat?” Natosha asked bitterly. “Just leave the damn tray and I’ll try to eat it later.”

  “Goodness, but you’re impossible. At least drink a little bit of the goat’s milk. The child needs the nourishment. Sip a little at a time and see if you can keep it down.”

  Natosha took the proffered drink and took a tiny sip of it, eyeing Saris over the rim of the cup.

  “Sister, you must tell me the reasoning of why you tried to entrance the Lystian king.”

  “Why not? A newly married young man whose wife has gone on a long trip? It’s the perfect way to sour what they have. The child I carry really was unexpected though, Saris. You must believe that.”

  Saris sat down in a chair next to Natosha’s large bed. “Accidents do happen. Tell me…did you use the drepsam on him?”

  Natosha nodded once and took another small sip of milk. “You should know that was a necessity. I wasn’t sure if my looks could sway him enough to destroy their marriage. I had to be sure my plan would work, which it did.”

  “It would seem as though there is some discord between them,” Saris agreed, twirling a coil of blond hair that had escaped her braids around her finger. “And you used the drepsam each time you visited him?”

  “Yes, why?” She took another gulp of the milk, and Saris saw that Natosha felt relieved it was staying down.

  “I was only wondering, dear sister. After all, you know what too much drepsam will do to mortals.”

  Natosha rolled her eyes. “Yes, they go mad. But I didn’t give him that much. Remember, I wanted to cause strife. If I had killed him right away the Lystian queen would have been heartbroken, but she would’ve gotten over it and come after us with a vengeance. As of now, I’ve caused her to mistrust the one she loves the most, and there is nothing worse than that.”

  “Indeed,” Saris murmured. “Indeed.”

  “It is too bad he is our enemy. He is a fine catch of a man.” Startled at the words coming out of her mouth, Natosha whipped her head over to stare at her sister. “That’s…that’s not what I meant to say at all!”

  “Sure it is,” Saris stated. “The whole purpose of giving you milk laced with a truth potion is so that you’ll speak facts.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and setting her chin in her hands. “Tell me sister…did you enjoy your romps with the Lystian king?”

  Natosha tried to hold her tongue, shocked that her sister had done this to her. But the milk had been tainted strongly with the tasteless potion, and her tongue was compelled to answer.

  “Immensely. He is inexperienced, however he’s a quick study.” Her face colored brightly at her tongue’s choice of words. She clenched her fist and tried to keep her mouth closed, thinking of any sort of counter-spell that would reverse the potion; she could not, however, seem to come up with one.

  “Interesting,” her twin commented. “Yet surely you were intelligent enough to keep your feelings out of it, yes? You feel nothing for the father of your child?”

  Natosha’s eyes welled with water as she tried to fight the response from spilling forth. She didn’t want her sister know what she herself was just now coming to realize. The spell, however, would not let this fact pass untold.

  “I want him for myself. I crave the attention he bestows upon his wife, and the lust he carries for her. I want him to love me as he loves the queen. I want a man who does not yearn for other women to sake his tastes in bed, or to do his dirty work for him. I deserve better!”

  A sob escaped her throat, as the reality of what she’d just said sunk in. A frightened look at her sister showed Saris’ face had paled. She was sitting back now, her eyes flashing dangerously.

  “And you would give this war to the enemy in order to have him?”

  “No!” Natosha answered. “I would not do such a thing. I will remain here to rule this realm as I always have.”

  Saris stood up and started towards the door. “You will remain here until you die, Natosha, but rule here you will not. I will not allow such a traitorous fool to be in control—especially in the middle of a war! I had profoundly hoped that the answers you would provide would be ones to my liking, and to the well-being of our realm. I see now that it is not so. As long as you harbor some sort of emotions for this man, then we can no longer trust you.”

  “That is absurd!” Natosha cried out, standing up. She straightaway began to sway, and sat back on the bed.

  “The rest of the potion is kicking in,” Saris calmly told her. “You’ll be resting really well tonight. Such a shame we could not continue rising to the top together, sister.”

  The door banged loudly as Saris left, and Natosha had no doubt that it had been sealed with magic to keep her confined. The potion continued its work, and the room began to get fuzzy. Moments later, she was asleep
.

  Back in her quarters, Saris shook with fury. If her sister felt anything at all for King Keelan, then her role in the mountain of witches was coming to a firm end.

  “How could you?” Saris yelled. She crossly grabbed the candelabra and threw it against the wall, warping the brass and extinguishing the flames.

  “Feeling a little bit testy this evening?”

  The God of the Dead appeared next to the crackling fireplace. The chill of the mountain, even in the summer heat, called for small fires in most of the rooms.

  “Eerich, I am not in the mood.”

  He chortled. “Women never are.” He ducked as she used her magic to chuck the bent candelabra at his head. “Damn it woman, watch it!”

  “You watch it,” she growled. Her hair had come out of its thick braids and was disheveled and wild. It matched the look in her eyes. “I am in no mood for games or jests!”

  Eerich sauntered over to her, towering above her by almost a foot. “And what are you in the mood for, Saris?”

  A single tear trickled down her cheek. “She will betray us.”

  Eerich nodded once. “Aye, that she might very well do.”

  “I will not have her jeopardize everything we have built. It will not happen!”

  “Then do not let her,” he said. He waited as he watched her carefully, knowing the thoughts that were running rampant inside her mind. Those kinds of thoughts bred doubts about her sister that would soon benefit the God of the Underworld.

  Saris turned away from him and stormed over to the window. “I am at a crossway, my Lord Eerich. I do not like the choices I have before me.”

  “The paths we choose in life need not be hard, Saris. I can make them easy for you.”

  She gazed out into the night, pushing back more tears. She would not cry in front of a god. “Many nights I have come to this window with many a wicked inclination in my head. Never have I regretted my choices and actions. I have never stopped to consider my wickedness being right or wrong…until now.”

  Eerich waited patiently for her to go on.

  “I do not know if I am ready to do this.”

  He approached her and lifted her hair away from her shoulders. He moved so that his lips were barely caressing the nape of her neck, his hot breath making her skin tingle. “We can do it little by little, if you prefer.”

  Her sharp intake of breath at his words aroused him.

  He had never stayed this close to her before, and the last time he’d left a mark from biting her. This time, however, his closeness did not bother her at all. Saris held her breath and concentrated on the thick tree line of the forest beyond the Black Lake, trying to avert her thoughts. It was hard to see much outside with the downpour that had commenced earlier.

  You must be strong, she scolded herself. Natosha has always had more than you. Natosha had run off and married first, she’d always been Rohedon’s favorite, her magic surpassing her sister’s. But wasn’t it time for Saris to have some triumph of her own? Why shouldn’t she gain the upper hand and take over the realm? She was certainly capable. The men and women in Rohedon’s Realm held her in just a high regard as Natosha. If she were to take over, it would be a smooth transition…

  But then she thought of the memories they shared together. They had been very much inseparable for most of their lives. Their childish, crystalline laughter filled her ears and she could almost see them running together through the fields of their homestead, hands interlaced and not a care in the world. They had been so close once. Each time their mother or father whooped one of them, the other would feel it and cry for her. The first time Saris was stung by a bee, Natosha used the little bit of magic she was born with to remove the stinger and take away the bite of the poison. So much love they’d had for one another…

  The day that Natosha had met Rohedon, Saris had not been there merely because she had burned breakfast that morning and had been confined to the house with a cumbersome amount of chores as punishment. Otherwise, she might have met Rohedon at the same time, and the twins could have shared their powers equally. That was when everything really began to change. Sure, Natosha had been drifting away from her gradually for some time by that point, but they’d still been thick as thieves. Rohedon had changed all of that. As soon as he was in the picture, her relationship with Natosha began to unravel, and both of the twins developed a lust for greed that had spiraled their lives to a whole other level of lunacy. They got so caught up in what was opened up to them that they failed to try and maintain what they’d had before. Natosha and Saris were still closer than most siblings, but everyone had their breaking point. What was hers?

  “Think about it,” Eerich whispered into her ear, nuzzling it gently with his red beard.

  There was so much to lose…

  The god’s hands slid around her hips, the tips of his fingers tantalizingly digging through her thin dress. “What has she done for you, Saris?”

  Plenty, Saris’ mind told her, and she voiced that opinion out loud. “If it wasn’t for her, I would not have met my husband and come into my powers. I owe her for what I have become.”

  “Do you owe her…or me?”

  Saris struggled to keep her thoughts straight. She owed them both, but her allegiance was to her twin. No one else had been there for her through the good and the bad like Natosha had.

  “My magic is dark and strong,” Eerich said in his deep voice. He leaned her back against him, allowing her to feel how aroused she’d made him. “Will you continue to resist it?”

  She couldn’t answer…she didn’t trust her words. Her eyes found the lake and she fancied she saw images of Natosha floating upon its surface. Heavy rains distorted the image, yet it seemed to become clearer the longer she looked at it. At first the mirage was the beautiful, happy twin that Saris had always known; but then it rippled, and her sibling’s expression changed to something dark and unknown. It stared back at her with malice.

  “But she is the only blood relative I have left…even all of my children have grown and left me.”

  “I shall give you more,” the god promised. “I shall give you what your heart desires: unchanging beauty, children to bear, and power unrivaled. Just say the words, Saris. Say them now.”

  She moaned in response, closing her eyes against the visage of her sister in the water. Would this be worth it? There would be no going back if she gave in to the God of the Underworld.

  “What has she done lately other than cause you troubles, my dear? All the meddling with the enemy king, whom she is bringing ever closer…”

  “She should never have interfered as she did,” Saris muttered angrily, opening her eyes again. The visage of her sister in the water had dissipated.

  “That witch has always come first, hasn’t she? First in line for every man and magic, it seems.”

  “It isn’t fair,” she whispered. “I’ve worked so hard!”

  “And you want to be remembered, don’t you, Saris?” his voice murmured.

  “Yes!” the witch answered breathlessly. “They should remember me for all that I have done.”

  “As well as for all that you will do…once you acquiesce to what you want.”

  Saris squared her jaw. “I want her power, Lord Eerich.”

  The god smiled ferociously as he whipped her around to face him. “You are sure, Saris?”

  She nodded, afraid to think too much on it in case her mind should change. “Yes, I am sure.”

  His grin broadened. “Then when her body is wasting away in the depths of my hells, you will remain healthy, safe, and unimaginably powerful in the land of the living. Tell me…do you give me your sister’s life? Last chance to turn back.” His eyes glowed a strange reddish-orange, ablaze with the powers within.

  “Take her at your whim, my Lord,” Saris said, “but take me now.”

  His lips found hers as he pinned her against the wall beside the window so roughly that it hurt. When he released her from the kiss, he grunted, “Not here. I will
have you in my chambers.”

  A whirlwind engulfed them and Saris closed her eyes.

  Silvia awoke with a gasp, shrieking with pain as a blade began to slip into her side. Someone yelled and the sword tip was yanked out of her with force as the weapon-yielder was knocked down. Scrambling towards the tent flap, she saw Hans reaching for her and grabbed for his hands. They both turned to look back, and Silvia saw with horror who her attacker was.

  Keelan.

  “No…” she whispered.

  Dalton had the king’s arms pinned behind his back as Keelan struggled to break free. Her husband’s face was a picture of pure madness: his eyes were distraught and darted everywhere, and he had sweated through his clothes until they nearly dripped. His hair was damp and his skin had a pale clamminess, as though he were sick. And indeed, he was.