“As much as I have looked forward to meeting you, Your Highness, it was not the reason I wished to make your acquaintance this morning. I came solely with the intention of telling you that your husband was not himself the first time he was with her.”
Silvia’s eyes flashed dangerously, ready to cast out emerald daggers. “Who told you of that? It is not truth you speak!” Shame rolled over her in waves. That a total stranger knew of her husband’s infidelity was humiliating beyond reason.
The tall man shrugged broad shoulders and tugged at his top knot as if frustrated with her for not accepting what had happened. “I gave him medicine, milady. Strong medicine. It makes you feel as though you are dreaming painlessly while in a drunken stupor…but you are awake the whole time. I use this medicine on soldiers to ease their pains when their wounds are very bad. A couple of hours after I gave it to him I wanted to check and see how he was doing. I did not want to knock on his door and wake him if he had fallen asleep so I climbed onto the terrace outside his bedroom. The doors were open to the night, so I was able to slip in and monitor how he was doing. He was, indeed, inebriated beyond belief.”
“Medicine and drunkenness are no excuse for what happened,” she growled at him as she grabbed Rituel’s brush and began to vigorously brush his mane. She regretted the words at once, having just admitted to him that she knew exactly what he was talking about. She knew that he had caught on, however, so there was no use hiding under a rock.
Lord Cambry shook his head. “But it is, in a way. You see, Your Grace, he honestly believed he was dreaming, and so saw no reason to stop. Think of it, milady: how often do you dream of something which was wicked, yet desirable and you therefore kept dreaming it?” He watched as the brush in her hand slowed, knowing the young woman was at least taking his words into consideration. “For that night, he was innocent. I beg you to blame the woman. She was the one enticing an already unfocused mind. By the gods, blame me if you must!” he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“And who is to blame for the second time?” Silvia asked sullenly, understanding Keelan’s actions a bit more. Yet she still didn’t want to take any of it to heart. She had once heard a servant say, ‘A man is a man, and a cheat is a cheat’. But he was her husband, her King, and she loved him so dearly! But what would happen if he saw the heathen queen again? Would he go astray, once more ripping her heart out by the roots? Or would he hold true to his queen? “Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, I do not believe he was under the influence of your so-called medicine again.”
Cambry scowled. “On the contrary...he was. He needed rest, as did the horses, and was so worried for you that I knew he would not sleep. I made the concoction for him again. And I was the one who interrupted them that day. I stood guard outside the tent, talking with one of my men. When I heard a woman speaking I thought my imagination was pulling wool over my ears. When I walked inside, I was more than surprised at what I found. Your King withdrew from his tent only moments later, the woman nowhere to be found. Such a…lady would have aroused more than the attentions of my camp, but no one had heard of her and she was not seen to have even exited the tent. She disappeared, Queen Silvia, and I do not feel comfortable saying that—it implies I wasn’t watching as carefully as I should have. I have a bad feeling about that woman, milady. She has some sort of dark magic she’s using on your husband—I know it. If you had only seen the dire look on his face when he sensed you were in trouble! Never has a man been so panicked and determined to reach his beloved. He feared for your life and damn near ran our horses to death to get to you. Do you see the love in that?”
“I see love in many things,” Silvia said quietly.
“Is your husband’s face one of them?” Cambry asked.
When her brush stopped again, she turned to face the tall Lord, her lower lip quivering. “I know he loves me deeply, as I do him. But I need time to heal.”
“Unfortunately there is no time. You go to war now, Queen of Lystia, and your people will not do well to see you at arms with your new husband. Remember that your people require unity, milady. Ruling a kingdom means that you put others before you. Do not be selfish with your emotions.” He bowed, his left arm sweeping out to the side. “Have a safe journey over the mountain. I will await your orders on the other side, milady.”
As he ambled off to another part of the camp a voice said, “Would Rituel like some oats before we travel?”
“I do not wish his stomach to cramp,” Silvia said, turning emerald eyes on her husband.
“A few oats would do him no harm, my Queen,” he said softly.
“All right,” she relented. She watched Keelan lift a leather bag up to the stallion’s mouth. An awkward silence fell between them, thickening in the early heat.
Finally Keelan spoke. “I wish to ride by your side over the mountain, Silvia.”
“Nothing stops you.”
“The look on your beautiful face does. I only want to watch out for the one I love.”
Silvia closed her eyes and thought of her people…unity. “You may ride with me as long as you wish, husband.”
His face would have been comical under different circumstances. He started forward as if to give an embrace, but then seemed to think better of it. He bowed deeply, his lengthening hair almost touching the ground.
Silvia sighed inaudibly. Her heart broke at the sight of him. How could she stay angry when it was obvious how much he cared for her? Unity was in the here and now, and not far into the future would be forgiveness. She could feel her steel resolve evaporating.
A dozen drums began to beat, announcing the departure of the army. Queen Silvia and King Keelan mounted Rituel and Windfall and rode to the foot of the pass, just below Goddess Aldoa’s Healing Spring. Silvia had said that she wanted to go over the mountain, and not around it. She wanted to see the clearing again, although she could not say why. Sir Grant said several thousand men would go with her over the mountain, but all wagons and pack animals would go around its base to save them from overexertion. The mountain was smaller than those they saw in the distance; the people traveling around it would not waste but a few more hours riding than the ones going up the pass.
Prince Dalton rode behind Keelan and his silent Queen as they started up the mountain pass, while Lord Cambry led his section to the left of the mountain. Quentin took charge of the right side and Sir Grant remained at the bottom of the pass to divide the army as it came to him. (That morning he had declared that the army move in a more organized fashion and had been up at dawn trying to sort people into smaller battalions.) Everyone pushed hard, for they wished for the comforts of the city still days ahead. A good, home-cooked meal was in the thoughts of most, though many were already deciding which tavern would have the best ale. (Rumor had it the main tavern chosen was The Weaving Vine.) However, in the back of every mind was a reprieve from the marching, to rest feet that would soon be covered again with blisters. The animals were tired as well, and would need to rest and graze. The animals would need their hooves cleaned out with special tools that few in the army had thought to bring and many horses were to be seen walking a little funny because they needed to be re-shoed.
From somewhere in the midst of the army, two piercing gray eyes locked onto the Queen’s back as she rode up the pass with her company. Though the distance between them was great he could easily see her. The hood he wore hung over his face, protecting him from the blazing sun and troublesome questions from fellow travelers.
Not far off, someone was watching the hooded man, making no move to disguise where his gaze was fixed. Using his broad shoulders to make headway through the crowd, the Dreamer approached the stranger, who stood just above his head. “Time to be moving along now,” said Vyto, looking up.
The man merely glanced in his direction, sizing him up; then his eyes darted back to the pass. “Yes, it is.”
He stole another, longer look at Vyto and the Dreamer was shocked to see great age behind the co
ld gray eyes.
“Vyto! Wait for me, would you? Or are you wishing to race around the mountain?” Gordy called out, coming up behind him.
Vyto turned to his friend. “No racing today.”
“So what are you doing?” His freckled face was already red and pouring sweat from the day’s heat.
“Having a word with someone.”
Gordy peered around his large companion with a puzzled expression. “Perhaps you should take up racing,” he said.
Vyto spun around to see what he meant. The stranger in the hooded cloak was gone. “But the bloody man was right here!” he muttered.
“Who was?”
“A strange man.”
Gordy shook his head and gestured around them. “I don’t believe you’ve noticed, but we are in an army, surrounded by ‘strange men’.”
Just then a woman walked by with two spears in hand and a multitude of spiky braids wrapped around her head which resulted in her resemblance to a porcupine.
Gordy swallowed hard. “And stranger women.”
Chapter Thirteen: A Witch’s Journey
Clea knocked briskly but did not wait for an answer before entering. “Well? Is it only me or do you feel it too? Something happened to Zela yesterday.”
Saris spared her a flick of the eye before nodding. “We others have felt it as well, my sister-wife.” In truth, her dreams the night before had been full of odd things too, and she did not know what to make of them.
“And what of our spies? Have any returned yet?”
“They have not had enough time to fly back yet, and you know as well as I that only the wives of Rohedon carry the secret of traveling so far so quickly. Servants are not allowed the magical powders for that. If something has truly happened to her it may be days before we hear anything unless one of us goes ourselves,” Natosha replied bitterly. Her voice was tense; yet she lay back on a large wingback chair as if nothing was wrong, one leg thrown over its arm despite the dress she wore.
“Perhaps that is what needs to be done,” Saris said. “I will change my attired and travel there immediately.”
“No.” Natosha said this so fast that her twin looked up in surprise. She recovered quickly, saying, “They have angered me so much already and I wish to see with my own eyes what has been done.”
Saris accepted this without question, for her sister was the first wife of Rohedon and was the strongest in magic. “Then it is done. Do you wish to eat before you go?”
The dark-haired twin shook her head. “Traveling on a full stomach makes me ill. I will pass on the food, but I will take a drink of something strong.”
Clea took the hint and barked orders to a nearby servant, who in turn ran off to fetch the strongest liquor to be had in the stone mountain. Natosha had a habit of drinking, and it usually raised her temper. But if she was refused a drink…things got serious fast.
“Do not be away long, sister,” said Saris with a touch of nervousness. She did not trust to good luck. She stood and walked over to Natosha’s chair to taker her hand. “If something happened to Zela, there may still be trouble around there. I will not see any wrong done unto you!” Her blond eyebrows furrowed in frustration for her sister to understand how dangerous this would be.
“Nothing will happen to me,” Natosha assured her sibling as she patted her hand. “I am most certainly stronger than this ‘Dead Queen’. You have seen for yourself that no one is a match for my magic!”
“Even so, if you should be gone more than three hours I shall come and find you.”
Natosha shook her head. “You are in charge in my stead. Someone of high authority must remain here to keep everything the way it is now. Send Clea if you must, but not unless I am gone over six hours. If there is anyone who can share information about Zela’s ending then I may need time to…draw out the details.” This was said grimly, and Saris knew if anyone was caught alive, they would not remain that way for very long.
An icy draft blew through the halls a few minutes later as the dark-haired beauty took a long pull from a cup of liquor. But the cold touched neither herself nor her twin, despite their scantily clad bodies. (Clea had long ago resigned to dressing warmly in most parts of the mountain, though the lowest levels tended to roast her alive.) Natosha’s cheeks flushed with the drink, she bid her sister farewell, and went to her private chambers. The room was like a large cave within the mountain—no windows here, and a high ceiling gave the room a gloomy appearance. The fire in the hearth was large but provided little in the ways of warmth. Strange animals were frozen in everlasting stances about the room, their abnormal bodies casting eerie shadows on the walls. She herself had claimed all of their lives in one way or another, and then posed them to her liking after they were brought to her chambers. She passed the little white monkey on the mantel, glancing in the mirror behind it and pausing to look at her reflection. Her long brown curls accented her cheekbones nicely in the firelight. Her slim shoulders shone golden above her sleeveless, skin tight dress.
Hmm. Maybe a change of clothes was in order. There would be no telling who would be around when she appeared where Zela was.
She hastily donned a plain black dress laced with silver embroidery that covered only a little more than the other and pinned up her hair. She looked in the mirror and nodded solemnly. It would do. She glanced at the bowl of sand the little monkey grasped in its lifeless hands, but turned away. She had used it the times she had visited King Keelan and had ended up being seen by others. She could not risk tempting fate like that again. No—this time she would be more cautious. She entered a hidden passage behind the frame of her massive stone bed and went into the large antechamber there. Many potions were stored here, as well as a larger supply of the Epir dust she had used on Keelan to make him want her. Also in this room, with its many full shelves of various magical items, was a very big mirror in the shape of an oval. It seemed to stand on its own on one side of the room—supported by nothing. It had no frame and glowed a light violet color. Clea’s son Gregorich Hapshamin had supposedly found it in Queen Madeline’s bedchambers when he took over Darkania so long ago. The mirror was very tall and wide enough for almost three people to walk into. The Mirror of Ways, she called it. It showed you any place you desired to go and would take you there instantly. She had loved the mirror so much that she had hidden it from her sisters-in-marriage. Everyone had their own little secrets, she supposed, and this one was hers. She went to one of her shelves and grabbed a tiny bag that was threaded through a long necklace. This was the sand she would need to use to bring herself back, since the mirror was only accessible here in her antechamber. Approaching her image in the mirror, she waved a hand adorned with serpentine rings over it. The mirror’s image of herself began to become unfocused. The colors swam into one another, mixing into multitudes of swirls before rearranging themselves into a picture of a forest.
Natosha’s eye twitched as she gazed upon the second of Rohedon’s murdered wives. She walked through the misty image and came out in the woods in a small clearing, nearly losing her balance on something very soft under her leather sandals. She cursed softly as she stepped off Zela’s dead soldier, not giving his twisted neck a second thought. He was not important; Zela was. The strong liquor she had drank coursed through her body, soothing her nerves and calming her. Not that dead bodies mattered to her in any situation…she was not grossed out by them at all. A quick look around the clearing showed only two dead horses and more dead men. She spat out another curse, this time towards the mirror that had brought her here. If the place she had sought were inside of a building she would have had perfect precision in where she exited from the mirror. As it was outside, however, the mirror (though showing Zela’s image) only took her to the vicinity of the body. She had to search for several minutes before Zela’s corpse was found on its side in a thicket, no doubt dragged off by the Queen’s men to leave to rot. Natosha immediately saw the stab wound in her stomach and her hands clenched in anger. She knelt to touch
the body, swatting away flies and other bugs which had gathered in the heat from the smell of dead flesh. The body was already getting bloated in the late morning air.
Natosha sucked in her breath, reining in her anger. “Rosenda’s body was beyond saving, but yours is still fresh enough and intact. She was not worth bringing back—her magic skills were pathetic and her stamina for battle weak. But you, my poor Zela, are another story. Always you went into battle with a fierce eagerness, anxious to destroy those who would go against you or your husband. I will bring you back to the world of the living so that you may avenge yourself and help us to defeat this Dead Queen and her army. Rise, my husband’s wife, and reclaim your beating heart.” She closed her eyes, spoke her magic harshly, and put her hands over Zela’s chest so that her power would fill the body.
The response to her spell should have been immediate, but nothing was happening. Natosha sat back on her heels, perplexed. The only time she had failed to bring someone back from the dead was when their body was too torn up, or their spirit, exhausted for whatever reason, declined the invitation to return. However, Zela had been an exceptional warrior and she would not have given up on returning! Her body only had one wound, after all, and wasn’t burned to cinders or dismembered…
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