“You are stronger now, but not by much. As soon as the final deed is done, you will come into your full power as I’ve told you repeatedly. But for every great draw of magic that you pull, know that you pull it from her to you. You will weaken her quickly, and when you are ready to finally proceed…you will finish the deal.” His eyes glowed orange, reflecting the dancing flames that cast their glow about the room.
“My curiosity is piqued, Eerich,” she said in a sultry voice, walking towards him with a sway of her hips. “What happens if the pact is broken?”
“Little Saris, so full of questions.” He stood up and sauntered over, pulling her to him roughly. “You want the answers to so many questions all at once, but you have only earned so few.”
“I must earn your answers?” she questioned.
“Let us just say that if I see your efforts to do what others would consider ‘unsavory’ or ‘despicable’, then I would be more prone to give the answers which you so desperately seek. Remember that I am the God of Evil as well as of the Underworld.” His eyes gave off a mischievous spark.
A wicked smile touched her lips. “Then allow me to show you what I am capable of.”
Eerich stole a kiss from her, biting her lip in the process. “I told you once that I liked your fire. I cannot wait to see you fan it into greatness.”
Saris blinked, and they were in the dining hall of the mountain in which she resided, and she was now fully clothed in a new dress. Servants bustled in and out of the cavernous room, nodding their heads to Saris and the man next to her as they passed by. Eerich stepped away to sit at the table, propping his large boots up on the wood; his red hair was set aflame by the blazing fireplace. One servant gave him a scalding look for his feet being on the table, but kept on about her business.
Saris felt the magic inside her tingling, and her excitement grew. She thought of the servants she disliked the most—two younger maids who always found room to complain—and reached out to them with her magic. She felt it latch on to them and start to draw them near. Minutes later, they appeared in the same doorway, their eyes looking at Saris with trepidation. Always together, those two. Thick as thieves and probably just as trustworthy. The witch tried to conceal her delight that such a spell had worked—in the past it had taken a lot more concentration and a lengthy spell, and only worked about half of the times she’d tried it. Now it was, well, easy. She noted with satisfaction that Eerich was watching her curiously.
“Cremele, Dosha…come forth from the shadows and stand before me.”
The servants did as they were told, albeit with much hesitance.
“Yes, milady?” they said together.
Saris stared them up and down. “Do you like working for us witches?”
Cremele and Dosha appeared startled. They shook their heads from side to side, and the word which came out of each mouth surprised them more. “No.”
“Mm-hmm,” Saris murmured. “And which of Rohedon’s wives do you dislike the most?”
Again, both answered the same thing, with a look of horror on their faces. “You.”
She laughed at their expressions. “You look so frightened—like little rabbits before a bear! You need not fear, for I have known this for a long while.”
Saris walked up to Dosha and played with her stringy brown hair; her magic reached into the girl’s mind, probing. “But I know something you don’t know, Cremele.”
“What is that, milady?”
“Dosha has been meddling where she shouldn’t. You should ask your brother how many times she has let him take her in the laundry hall.”
Dosha’s eyes widened and she looked at the other servant. “Cremele, it’s not true!”
Cremele’s face reddened, but she did not give in to the instigating sting of Saris’ words.
“Have either of you no honor?” Saris retorted. “One mingles into the family with her womanhood, and the other now knowingly accepts this as though it is second nature. Will you not stand up for your brother if you do not believe my words?”
“I wish not to stir up a cauldron of trouble with anyone,” was the only answer Cremele would give. Her face was aflame with indignity.
Dosha blinked back tears and whispered. “It was only a couple of times, dear Cremele. Please—do not fault me for something which we have both done with people before.”
Saris let out a shrill bark of laughter. “Do not fault her for bedding your brother, Cremele.” Her fingers that so deftly played with the servant’s hair now yanked a fistful of it and brought the girl closer to Saris’ mouth. She whispered, “Yet the bedding of one’s husband is an entirely different story.”
Cremele glowered at her friend. “Dosha, is this true?”
Saris plucked the memory out of Dosha’s mind and reached out, touching Cremele’s forehead. The images transferred and Cremele stumbled back in shock. The witch turned around and walked over to the chair Eerich was sitting in; her hands found his shoulders and began massaging them as she spoke.
“There is no honor amongst yourselves, and no trust between you and me. I have exposed a great lie between you two ladies. Who is more appreciative of my honesty?” When neither answered, her tone soured. “Who will be a better servant to me and live to see another day?”
Both women piped up at her last remark.
“I shall!” Cremele exclaimed.
“No, it is I who will serve you better!” Dosha argued.
“Tsk, tsk. It is a shame that I cannot give my trust to either of you. Your words are shallow—not deep enough to hold any meaning to me. And I’m afraid that I do not trust both of you to live within my home with such new and abounding hate for one another. Such a thing would be a catastrophe waiting to happen.”
“You could banish us both from your domain, milady,” Dosha pleaded.
Cremele laughed. “Ha! Speak for yourself, wench. I have done nothing wrong and will not be banished for your actions with my husband and my brethren.”
“Then it is settled,” the witch proclaimed.
Dosha and Cremele gazed at Saris expectantly.
“You shall fight each other for the right to stay here and keep working for me.” Saris smiled sweetly from behind the God of the Underworld. “It’s a fight to the death, ladies.”
Dosha twittered nervously. “You must be joking, milady. Surely you do not wish—“
She stopped short as Cremele’s fist connected with her cheek. Knocked to the ground, Dosha tried to get back to her feet in a daze. Cremele scowled at her former friend, turned to the table and grabbed a cutting knife that had been left upon it. She knelt beside Dosha and ran the blade through the side of her neck. As Dosha choked to death on her own blood, Cremele stood up and tossed the knife down onto the floor. She was visibly upset, however held her composure as she met Saris’ eyes.
“I hope this satisfies you.”
Saris stepped around Eerich as he merrily chuckled from his chair. “You did what you had to do, Crimele.”
“And I get to stay in your work force, Saris?”
“Why, of course, dear. And I have a task for you to do already.”
Cremele sighed. “Yes, milady?”
“Walk into the fire.”
Her servant balked at the request. “Excuse me, madam?”
Saris went to the mantle and wiped her finger across it to see how dusty it was. “You heard what I require you to do. Must I really repeat myself?” She flicked the dust off of her finger, and twirled the same digit towards Cremele.
The servant jolted forward against her will. She put out her arms, crying out, but her legs carried her slowly to the fireplace despite her protestations. Eerich leaned forward eagerly to watch, his eyes flicking back and forth between Saris and the doomed servant.
Cremele was sobbing openly now, begging Saris to spare her life. The witch ignored the pleas, using her magic to push the woman further. As one foot treaded onto the hot coals that had fallen from beneath the giant grate, her slipper began to
melt to her sole. She screeched in pain as the coals burnt away the slipper and commenced melting into her foot. Her other leg moved forward and the same quickly happened to it. Saris sneered as the servant was made to put her hands down onto the logs, searing the flesh away and catching her dress on fire. The magic kept shoving her body forward until she was crouching atop of the crumbling logs, aflame from head to foot and screaming in agony.
As her flesh began to melt off of her bones, Eerich moved up behind Saris and rubbed against her. “Very well, my pet,” he said, grabbing her hips. “Such a viciousness which lives within you, yearning to be set free.”
She moaned in agreement, her eyes never leaving the burning mass of flesh that had finally stopped its ear-piercing cacophony. She turned around in his arms and bit his lower lip firmly between her teeth; she didn’t draw blood, but she received his attention quickly before letting go.
“And now, my Lord Eerich…give me a different taste of my powers.”
As she whispered into the god’s ear, Claw disappeared back into the shadows with several other servants. All of them had been drawn to the screaming, though torture was a common thing to be seen and heard throughout the mountain. This was different though. None of them saw any sense in what had just happened.
But to someone else, it made a lot of sense. Clea stood in the shadow of a giant statue which was collecting dust in a back corner of the room. A little-known path lay behind it, which she had used to get to the dining room when she’d heard the screaming. The sight of Saris being so intimate with the God of the Dead unnerved her. And she had no doubt that the burning of the servant woman was to appease his wickedness. But why? She pondered many answers as she crept back to her room.
None of them bode well.
Silvia stretched her leathery wings, feeling the warm morning breeze embracing them as she soared above the army. She felt safer up here than she did down below. Guilt racked her mind at the thought, but she shoved it to the side. She had every right to feel safer away from Keelan at the moment. She also had a mushroom of guilt inside her from practically throwing herself at the prince the night before. But Keelan had told her to do something of the sort back in Nillias, so could she be blamed? Yes and no, she supposed. Either way there was something about Dalton’s touch that drove her (and her dragon) insane. She wasn’t sure what it was yet, or if she’d ever figure it out.
A scent drew her attention to the north and she followed it cautiously. Before long she came upon a small pond with a fresh creek pouring into it and a little hut sitting nearby. She whipped her massive body around and went back to the army. She landed in front of the massive group where her personal company was and transformed back to her human self.
She mounted Rituel hastily. “We have a source of fresh water up ahead a little ways. We need to stock up—we’ve been out of water since last night.”
“Good,” said Sir Grant. He glanced over his shoulder at the wagon which followed them. “Will we be waking His Highness up so that he can drink? He needs something in his system, milady.”
The Queen did not glance back at the wagon, uncomfortable with the idea of Keelan’s current dilemma. “Yes, we must keep his health up. Whatever sickness he has will overtake his body if his health declines. We must not let that happen. My husband will get better.”
Hans smiled from beside her, yet he as well still threw a glance back at the wagon; or rather, who rode aside the wagon. The Prince of Wexford sat tall and proud on his horse, staring at the black wagon as if his eyes were penetrating the painted wood to see within. When he turned his head forward again, his eyes snapped to his queen, boring into her back. Very watchful, this one.
The day stretched on uneventfully with the sun scorching them from above. All were hopeful to reach the water by midafternoon, and then the Moseman Hills by nightfall where they would make camp. They were all dehydrated, and the horses were in poor condition. If they were to go until nightfall without water, Silvia was sure they would lose some of the beasts to the heat. Many hours after she had spotted the water and the tiny cottage, they rounded a large hill and came upon a vast cornfield. Silvia nodded to her scouts and halted the army with a raised fist.
“We should just ride on ahead right behind the scouts,” said Byarne.
Cambry gave a slight shake of his head. “No. We do not yet know who lives here.”
“But we are in a most dire need of water.”
“Do not let your thirst endanger yourself or the queen. There could be an ambush, or hostile people living here. You forget we now border Rohedon’s Realm.”
“Once we get to Moseman Hills we’ll be all but waltzing about just outside Rohedon’s Realm anyway,” the Duke muttered.
The statement chilled them all as they waited impatiently for the scouts to return. Eventually two came back and approached the Queen’s entourage.
“Milady, there is but an old woman who lives here. She seems to be quite ill and has not answered any of our questions about the water. Indeed, she doesn’t seem to talk at all,” one said.
“Well, there’s nothing to be done except go and talk to her myself,” Silvia stated.
“Milady, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Grant asked.
“No, I’m not, however how long do you think the people behind us will last in this heat without more water?”
He nodded in acquiescence and kicked his heels into his horse to spur it forward.
Ten minutes later the tip of the army was at the cottage door. Silvia dismounted, along with her entourage. They advanced to the steps of the cottage and stopped when they saw the old woman sitting in a rocking chair on its tiny, run-down porch. She wore a wide-brimmed hat and her head was down.
“Excuse me, madam, but we are in great need of some of your water,” Silvia said. She waited for a response, but received none. Was the old woman sleeping? Her chest rose and fell shallowly and she felt a nervous twitter as she began walking towards the woman. “Milady, we are going to take a large portion of your water for our army. My men and women are in desperate need of it, and our horses as well. We shall try to be modest about how much we take.”
Still no answer. Silvia looked back at General George. “Have them fill their containers. Horses can be watered at the pond and everyone else can get theirs from further upstream where the waterwheel is. I want a steady line and no trouble. Let’s get this done as fast as possible. We will break for as long as it takes to get everyone taken care of, and then we shall be on our way. We need to make up time—this lack of water has tired us and slowed us down. When the woman wakes, we shall tell her we are in her debt.” She took a seat in a chair at the other end of the porch and watched the old woman’s nearly motionless figure.
“Yes, Your Grace—right away.”
He hurried off, barking orders at the other generals. Each one readied their regiment to partake in the water line. Those with horses led the animals to water first and took them off to graze in a nearby field until it was time to leave again. Those unfortunate enough to have walked many miles that day instead of riding gratefully took their shares of the water. The crisp, clear water soothed the parched, aching throats. Never had water tasted so clean!
Silvia refused to drink any water until every man or woman in the army had their thirst sated. Out of respect for her, her small entourage did the same. It took much longer than expected to see to the entire army, and many were taking naps by the time the last regiments approached the water. When General George came back to the porch, Silvia expected him to appear less stressed and more relieved.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, standing up.
“Milady, we have three more regiments to fill their containers, and yourselves as well.”
“Go on…”
His face was a ruddy color in the glare of the afternoon soon. “I don’t know how to say this, but…there is no more clean water to drink.”
Chapter Sixteen: Tainted
“What do you mean?” Dalto
n said, stepping forward.
George shrugged. “We depleted the water supply almost all the way up to its source. The stream that was steadily flowing down earlier is now a thin trickle of muddied water. It will take quite a while for it to fill again and let the mud settle back down to the bottom.”
“By the Dark Moon,” Silvia muttered. She was as thirsty as her men and women, but she knew she could hold out a bit longer. Dalton and Cambry had procured a decent amount of spirits in Nillias that they could sip upon here and there. It would wet their throats, but it was not the water they’d need. “Ask if any of the men would spare enough water for their King.”
War Against the Realm Page 21
