The woman stopped and spoke to the men who were carrying Quentin, who was breathing raggedly. “I will wait for you to take him into the water. It will heal all of his wounds.” As the men carried Quentin into the spring, she turned her eyes upon the waiting crowd. “Your Queen lives on!” A roaring cheer filled the forest and the people jumped up and down, hugging one another. The echo of cheers glided down the mountain pass to the main bulk of the army and for a moment no one could hear anything over the noise. The woman gazed at Keelan, her eyes flickering briefly to Prince Dalton. “You shall come with us—the both of you. The man in the water is special to you as well, no?”
Keelan nodded. “He is my brother, milady.”
“Then bring him too:”
In a cool damp cave well behind the small waterfall, Keelan, Dalton, and Quentin sat with the woman after leaving their weapons and the white cloak outside. She had made hot tea, and they were drinking quietly, sitting on soft rugs on the floor.
“You asked me my name a short time ago, my young King,” the woman said. “I am Aldoa, and this is my Healing Spring I created a long, long time ago.”
“My Lady Aldoa!” cried Prince Dalton, bowing his head to the floor. “I have heard of you in my teachings, but—please forgive me—I thought you were only a fable, a myth!”
Aldoa smiled. “I am as real as you are, my child.”
“I am afraid I do not understand,” said Quentin hoarsely and Keelan nodded in agreement.
“Well, let us hear what the prince has to say of me, and I will add what I can, yes?”
Prince Dalton began to speak hurriedly, after he sat back up. “Aldoa is supposed to be one of the daughters of Aklamon—the god of all gods. Her sister is Chin, the Goddess of Humanity and one time lover of the God of the Dead and Evil, Eerich. Her brother is Geldin, God of Battle. Saphrite was their mother, the Goddess of Purity. She was born a mortal, but was raised to a goddess by all of the good deeds she accomplished. Aklamon took her as his wife and she bore these three children.
“As you know, Saphrite and Aklamon were lost at sea in a terrible storm created by Eerich’s uncle, Hasofite. No one knew where they were, or if they were dead…not even their own children,” said Dalton. “Chin sent her albatross all over the Big Water; Geldin sent forth his dragons and his swordfish; and Aldoa sent word through her rivers, for she is the Goddess of all waters smaller than the sea. They found nothing. It was said that Aldoa created a Healing Spring in memory of her mother and dwells always nearby to watch over it.”
“And so it has been for nearly a thousand and a half years,” Aldoa said, setting down her earthen cup of tea. “I shall keep this spring for healing until my mother and father return.”
“You believe they did not perish?” said Quentin, who was still trying to grasp the enormous concept that was her age. And he had always thought his great-grand pappy had been old! “And you’re a…a goddess?”
“Yes, I am a goddess and no, I do not believe my parents perished in the storm,” she said sadly. “I can still feel them, though faintly.”
The King bowed his head to the floor in reverence, imitating Prince Dalton. “Thank you, Goddess Aldoa of the Smaller Waters, for saving my wife’s life, as well as my brother’s. I am more than grateful. Is there anything by which I can repay you?”
Aldoa’s eyes flashed angrily and her dress rustled as she shifted on her rug. “Under ordinary circumstances such a request would insult me…However, I will accept your offer of payment. My eyes and ears are not blind and deaf, my young lad. I can see and hear just fine, yes? I know you travel to Rohedon’s Realm. I have lost some cherished waters in that realm to the heathen witches, and I would like to regain control of them, as they are rightfully mine.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” asked Quentin. “We are but mere men, milady, and cannot control things such as rivers and streams.”
“Your words are true, my child,” she said, “but all you have to do is defeat the Realm of Rohedon—conquer it—and name the waters mine. I will know when, and if, it is done.”
The Commander of the Royal Army, General George, came into the cave, closely accompanied by Lord Cambry, who had to duck to walk under the low ceiling. “My Lady Aldoa, Queen Silvia has opened her eyes. She is awake and very hungry.”
The goddess seemed relieved at this news. “Fetch her something to eat that is good and hot. I will go and see her after she has eaten.” She waited for them to leave, then turned to the three handsome young men before her. “Before I speak to Silvia I wish to talk to each of you in private. Your paths lie crooked, but I shall help you seek the right direction. King Keelan, you are first.”
Prince Dalton and Quentin walked out into the late evening sunshine together, and Quentin immediately took his cloak from its place on the ground outside the cave, donning it quickly.
“Do you ever leave it off for long?” Dalton asked, gesturing at the white cloak.
Quentin shrugged. “I am used to it. It has been a part of my life for many years now. It’s hard to give up something that is almost like a second skin.” He walked away, stopping to speak with Sir Grant a little ways off.
The Prince went into the Healing waters, savoring the odd feel of his skin mending. He exited the water feeling completely refreshed. He headed to his horse, unstrapped his saddlebags, and went into a tent set up for himself. He changed his clothes quickly, hanging his wet ones on low hanging branches. Next he headed for the larger tent near the cave where Silvia had been taken to sleep. Maura, her maidservant, sat just outside the door, and gave him a warning look when he asked if he could go inside.
“Do nothing to upset her, young prince, and I may let you keep your hide.”
He nodded, peeled back the tent flap, and ducked inside. Silvia was propped up on her elbow, her back to him. By the light of several lanterns he could see that she was unclothed, a light blanket barely covering her from her rump down. It looked as though she were looking at her stomach. He sat down near her silently and stared at her beautiful form, flawless…except for the brand of a dragon on her back and a pink scar from being run-through.
“How did you get your dragon?” he asked, leaning forward to trace it with his finger.
Silvia glanced over her shoulder at him and sighed heavily. “Zander. He branded me with a special coin and it enabled me to become a dragon when I so wish,” she said in a tired voice. “Haven’t you ever wondered how I gained such an ability?” She lay down, her head resting on a pillow, not bothering to cover her nakedness.
Prince Dalton withdrew his hand. “I am sorry I failed you.”
She rolled over onto her back to look at him, her full breasts leaning to the sides. He could see where the sword wound had been on her front—a three inch pink scar just below her navel. He noticed her sapphire necklace lying on a table and wondered why she took it off.
“How do you think you have failed me?” she asked.
He stuttered. “I didn’t dispose of all the men quickly enough and one of them got to you.” He pointed at her stomach
She fingered the scar gingerly. “That was my fault, Prince Dalton. You told me to wait, and I didn’t.”
“Who am I to give a queen orders, anyway?” he mumbled.
“But I didn’t see the danger for you or me because I was so worked up over Quentin. You did see it, and tried to help by eliminating the threat. And I just had to rush in without thinking.”
“Well, you did save his life,” he said. “That has to account for something.”
“It accounts for nothing. Quentin saved his own life,” she said bitterly. “But you, my prince, saved us both.” He gave her a look so odd and perplexed that she managed a giggle. “Yes, I heard about you pulling the wagon down the mountain pass with nothing but your own strength. Maura told me all about it. That was no small feat.”
“Yes, well…I could not let you die, and you refused to leave Quentin. The horses were all but dead; there was no other way to save you
both.” He paused. “Your husband helped as well, milady. He harnessed his horse to the wagon for the last part of the way. If it hadn’t been for him, I may not have made it in time…Did you know he was here?”
The Queen’s mood seemed to darken considerably. “Yes. Maura told me of this as well. I do not know what to think. I did not know he was following us.”
“What man in his right mind wouldn’t follow you?” Dalton said quietly. “He must love you very much to have followed in such haste.” By the Dark Moon, how he hated his own words!
“I question his love.” She toyed with a curl of red hair idly. “I question everything now.”
“Do you question me? For you need not.”
“You are perhaps the most interesting question of all,” she said. “I do not know what to do with you.”
Dalton leaned forward to take her hand, bowing his forehead to it. “Anything you wish, my Queen. Do with me what you will.”
Chapter Ten: A Touch of Destiny
“I am a goddess, young man. I am immortal and compared to you I am very old and very wise. I can see a little into your mind and so I know your thoughts and fears. You may have more than one woman in your life, Keelan, but she will not know most of them, if they should occur…Just as you will not know of whom she takes unto her chambers.”
Keelan had not expected anything like this, and he was angered. “Who are you to say such things?”
Aldoa merely looked at him. “I read the stars, young king, and I tell you only what I read. It is no fault of mine what you do in your future.”
“But I want no other women!” he said, exasperated. “I only want my wife! Can we not be happy and raise a family in peace?”
“I did not say you would lead a miserable life,” she said, sounding as if she wanted to roll her eyes. “You will be happy, of course, even when her daughter is born.”
Keelan began to say something, but stopped. “We will have a daughter?” He very nearly bounced with excitement where he sat, but it ebbed away quickly. “What do you mean ‘her daughter’? Will I not be the father? Will I be…dead by then?”
“I believe you may still be alive, however, I am not sure. All I know is that her first child shall not be of your blood, my dear, but if you are still alive you shall accept it or pay the price of leaving your throne.”
“But I do not want my wife to bed with another man and have him sire her child! I want her to have my child!” Keelan was livid and very confused. If he would not be the father of her baby, then who would be?
“It is already written in the stars, my child, and so it must be.”
“So it must be, so it shall be,” he muttered under his breath. In a lower tone he added, “But by the Dark Moon, I don’t have to like it.”
Aldoa went on as if he had not spoken at all. “Nothing small can change the outcome of such a thing—it is too grand. This child will be important in some way that even I cannot see yet. You must let this happen so that the stars do not fall on our heads. To prevent this from happening will be the downfall of your city and your marriage. It does not matter what happens to you and your queen afterwards, so long as the child is all right.”
“And she will have to sleep with this man—the father of this child—no matter what I do?”
“I know of no other way to sire a child,” the goddess stated.
How could this be? Silvia loved him too much to hurt him like that, didn’t she? But then again, look at how much he loved her, and he had still cheated on her. He cursed himself silently for his lapses in judgment. What would he do now that he knew this was going to happen?
“This must happen,” the woman said fervently. “And one thing more: take care when you see the other one. I know not what this means, only that there is someone in the shadows that awaits you. Be careful with this person. She is dangerous.”
“Natosha?” he asked. “Yes, I’ve had a bad feeling about her.”
Aldoa peered at him closely. “Who is this woman? She is not part of your army—this I can see.”
“She is…an enemy,” he said softly. “One that I plan on taking care of. She may have cost me my wife.”
“If you are persistent, she will die.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
Quentin was the next person that the goddess wished to speak with. He tied his white hair in a leather thong and carried his cloak inside instead of wearing it.
Once he was seated she said, “You have before you a long and winding road, full of chances, battles, and brushes with death.”
The young man stuck his chin out defiantly. His white cloak lay folded in his lap, his hands wringing it restlessly. “That is the Lady Silvia’s path, and I walk before her to carve it clear with my sword and my life. I did not mean to endanger her so this morning; now I shall have to work harder to make sure something of this sort does not reoccur.”
Aldoa set her stone tea cup beside her and took Quentin’s hands in her own. “You did nothing to endanger her this morning. There are always choices that people make which decide their fate. You will not spend your entire life protecting your brother’s wife incessantly. Oh, there will be times throughout the years when she will need your help and you will give her succor when she calls upon you. But there is more to your life than servitude.”
“I need nothing else,” Quentin stated. “I am honor-bound. My servitude is my punishment for past crimes and a symbol of loyalty to the King and Queen I adore. Nothing comes before them, not even my life. I shall do nothing if not for them.”
The goddess squeezed his hands gently. “Any royalty should be glad to have such a faithful one as you. You are a brave young lad, yes? A warrior in time…but you need not do this forever.”
“This is what I am,” he said. “All of my life I have served. I do not know how to do anything else.”
Aldoa let go of his hands to sip her tea. She looked at him calmly as she did so, taking him in. “At the end of this path, deep inside the Realm of Rohedon, someone has great need for you, and awaits your arrival. Out of black water and into dark woods, this someone would go through the bowels of all hells to get to you, although they do not yet know it. You must bring this person to me as quickly as you can when you find them.”
“Who is it?” he asked gruffly. “What do they want of me?”
“The rest of your life,” said Aldoa, and waved away any questions or comments he had been about to say. “There is an ancient creature who lives in that land that may help you.”
“What kind of creature? How will it help?”
She smiled. “I cannot tell you everything, nor do I know everything. Gods are not omnipotent—the free wills of mortals prevent that. But there is one other subject I must press on: your cloak.”
Quentin was puzzled. “What of it?”
“You need to stop wearing it so much after you return to Lystia. It is not good for you to be so attached to something which still holds evil.”
Quentin nodded his head slowly, looking down at the bright white robe in his lap. “I have thought about doing that. I just feel so strange without it; it’s like I’ve lost something important when I do not put it on. However, I suppose it would be for the best.”
“There’s a good chap,” said Aldoa. “And to be safe I would go slowly in the process of separating yourself from the cloak.”
“Little by little,” he said, then chuckled.
“Do you find our conversation to be amusing, my boy?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.
“No, I was only scared you would tell me something dreadful.”
Aldoa’s gaze turned doleful. “Perhaps the dreadful prophecies were left for others. But that will be their tale to tell, if they will tell it. It is not my place to tell you another’s destiny. We are done now.”
Dalton left his weapons outside with a tall, mean-looking man by the name of Lord Cambry and went inside with a sense of trepidation. Why would a goddess wish to speak with him alone? Perhaps
she would admonish him for thinking she was only a myth his whole life. What had she said to the others? Did she have some special deed for them besides returning her ‘waters’? Was something very bad going to happen to one of them?
He sat down tailor-style in front of her, anxious. Goddess Aldoa was knitting a small piece of cloth and patiently ignored him for a few minutes.
Finally she said, “Knitting keeps my old hands busy and sometimes one needs to keep busy so that the world seems to pick up its pace. Being alive for so many dozens of centuries, I have seen nearly everything and I tend to get bored. Now, at last a thing of interest has occurred: an army of men and women come to my spring in utter discord, including a King and his bride who are at silent arms with each other.”
Of Gods and Dragons Page 13
