“We really need to have more men scouting, and there needs to be a constant rotation of this. Lookouts at the back of the army are just as important as the ones at the front. What if the enemy should try sneaking up on us whilst we are unawares?”
George nodded. “I understand what you mean, now that you’ve explained it. I’ll call a meeting with my men and we’ll go over what all needs to be done.” He bowed to Silvia, his head hung low in reverence. “My Queen.” He walked away to attend to his duties.
“Sir Grant, I must speak with you a moment,” Silvia said. She dismounted and walked around Rituel to stand before the man. His face had started a beard since they had left Lystia, and he almost looked like a different man.
“Of course. I am at your disposal.”
“How close are you to the man called Lord Cambry?”
He shrugged. “We are by no means ‘close’, but he is a man who would make an excellent ally when given the chance. He will serve you well in this war, I believe.”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I need him watched, Sir Grant. Protected at all costs. There is something which hunts me, and he is the key to its demise.”
Grant nodded slowly. “As you wish it, so it shall be done. I will see to it. He will have someone watching him at all times.”
She smiled in satisfaction. “I am glad to have someone so trustworthy in my company, Sir Grant.”
“It is an honor just being in your presence, milady. Is there anything else you wish to speak of before I talk to my men?”
She shook her head and watched him walk off, adjusting a light cloak that rested upon his shoulders in the chill of the morning. She started to turn away but something drew her attention back to Sir Grant. Not far ahead of him, a man in a gray robe was staring at her. His eyes moved to Sir Grant, who seemed not to see him, and then back again. A slight inclination of his head was his only other movement before he vanished into the morning air.
Silvia now recognize the man as the one who had spoken with her at the Healing Spring.
Lord Geldin, God of War, was traveling amongst them as well.
Saris was in a mood. Just one look at her dark expression warned everyone not to speak to her. She went through many corridors, her soft sandals not making a sound on the stone floors as she went to join the others. She entered the room in a whirlwind, throwing the door open much harder than normal. She glared at Emaree with enough venom to kill an army.
“Do you think toying with our magic a game to be played, little witch?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Emaree. She glanced at the other wives warily. They had arrived moments before the blonde-headed wife of Rohedon. “I haven’t done anything.”
“I’ll take a wager that the girl is lying through her teeth,” Clea growled.
“Can you please tell me what it is you think I’ve done? I can’t exactly do a lot being locked away all day.” The youngest of the wives folded her arms across her chest.
Natosha rolled her eyes as she walked over to the window and looked out. “So you say, Emaree…so you say.”
“But it’s true.”
The brunette gazed out the window at the countryside below: it was mostly wooded, with clear patches here and there. The trees had darker colors in this part of the forest, as though the dark magic within had contaminated it. The black lake shone under the mid-morning sun, trying to belie the taint inside it.
Saris looked at Emaree. The girl was a picture of pity: her scraggly brown hair was all in tangles, her eyes sunken in and hollow from lack of sleep, and her skin bruised, cut, and filthy. They rarely allowed her to bathe because it kept her spirits low, and her self-esteem dry as an empty river bed. She was a mischievous one at times though. Could she be telling the truth? There was a way to find out.
She walked over to the small fire which blazed in the hearth and picked up an iron bar. As she put the tip of it into the fire to heat it, Emaree began to whimper.
“Please don’t,” the young witch pleaded. “I swear on my life and the lives of my lost family that I have done nothing!”
Saris smiled sweetly as she turned around. The iron bar was one they had often used to brand the girl when she misbehaved. At the end was the letter ‘R’, for Rohedon. He had suggested this use of torture years ago when she denied him her bed over and over. It was to remind her of who she belonged to. Even though he was gone now, she still belonged to the other wives, and they would make sure that she remembered that.
“Clea, remove her tunic.”
Emaree began to panic. They hardly ever removed her tunic for punishments unless it was very, very bad. “I don’t know what you think I’ve done! I am innocent!”
The blonde twin chuckled darkly. “So you say, but we shall see how loose your tongue gets with a little heat.”
Clea untied Emaree’s tunic, using magic to keep the girl from fighting back. The tunic was ripped off, exposing her breasts and belly.
“One last chance to come clean, little witch.”
Emaree’s eyes shone wet with tears. “I have done nothing, sister-wife! I swear it!”
Saris scowled. “You leave me no choice.”
She stuck the scalding end of the iron bar to the soft skin of Emaree’s right breast, leaving it for a few seconds so to increase the agony the girl felt. Emaree screamed, a blood-curdling sound that rendered the mountain silent in its wake. Saris removed the bar and did the same on the left breast. Again, Emaree’s scream tore through the morning air, sending chills along the spines of the servants roaming the cold stone halls of the mountain.
Natosha turned from the window to look at the pitiful visage before her. “You were always such a disappointment…always the weak one. For that, you will always pay.”
She left the room with a swish of her revealing skirt, followed by Clea. Saris put the iron back in its place and inspected her work on Emaree’s breasts.
“You will be our property until you die. You might as well just prepare yourself for the long haul, my dear. Quit trying to thwart our efforts in everything.”
Emaree stared at her with glazed eyes. “I keep telling you that I have done nothing, yet you still torture me. Why keep me alive? Why not just put me out of my misery? Give me death, Saris. I don’t care how. But give me that much.” Tears fell down her dirty cheeks as she closed her eyes.
Saris looked her up and down and shook her head. “Do not expect me to feel sorry for you, little witch. As my sister implied: the weak get punished. That is how it will always be. And as long as we sister-wives are alive you will be our prisoner.” She leaned forward and lifted Emaree’s chin so that their eyes could meet. “I will never let you leave here.”
Emaree could barely move for the intense pain that had overtaken her frail body. Tears fell like silent soldiers from her eyes, fading away as they dripped down and leaving a path in their wake. She looked at the small fire, thinking of ending it all. But even if she could make it flare up, it would be torturous for her to wait to be burned alive. Her only other option lay straight ahead: the window. The drop would be a fatal for sure. But could she make it over there?
She reached out to the stool that sat next to a table near the window and concentrated hard. The stool wobbled, and slowly began to move along the floor to her. It took several minutes before it got close enough to touch. When it rested next to the bed she swung her scarred legs over the edge and scooted onto it carefully. Using her magic to help her, she moved little by little towards the window. Her brow was beaded in sweat from her efforts by the time she reached it. She gripped the rock edge of the window and pulled herself up to a standing position. A breeze hit her face and cooled her naked breasts where they throbbed from the brands. Down below, the lake beckoned to her. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself down the side of the mountain and land in the dark waters, letting them envelope her corpse forever.
At the edge of the forest, something glinted in the sun. He stepped ou
t: the great Black Stag, his giant golden antlers ablaze against the darker leaves of the forest. His gaze was lifted to look up at her, his eyes penetrating her suicidal reverie.
“He does not wish to see you do such a thing,” said a voice behind her.
Emaree nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned to see an older woman come up to stand beside her at the window. Her long silver hair was partially pinned atop her head, and yet still trailed down past her shoulders. Her face showed a kindness that Emaree had forgotten existed in the world. The ageless eyes, though…those held her captive.
“Excuse me, milady?”
The woman nodded down at the stag. “The beast does not want to see you jump. You understand, yes?”
The girl was at a loss for words. “Do we know one another? I have not seen you before.”
The old woman smiled. “I know you, but you had yet to meet me before this day.”
Emaree glanced at the door, which was still shut. She had no doubt that it remained locked as well. “You must work for Saris or Natosha. How did you get into my room? Have you a key?”
The woman chuckled, the sound pleasant to Emaree’s ears. “I work for no one, child, and I need no keys to get where I want to go.”
“Then how do you know me? Or know of me? I am kept locked away in this wretched room and am not allowed out whatsoever. Surely you are mistaken in thinking you may know who I am.”
The woman smiled down at her. “I know everyone, my child. And I also know this: your salvation comes at long last. Do not give your life and your body to the God of the Dead just yet. We are coming for you.”
Emaree awoke with a start, gasping. She pulled herself up to a sitting position before noticing that her breasts no longer hurt. Looking down, she saw with amazement that the newest brands that Saris had bestowed upon her were no longer. As she looked up towards the window, she saw that the stool was next to it, and a long strand of silver hair dangled from a niche in the rocks.
Emaree closed her eyes, and began to weep.
Saris and Natosha sat naked on the floor of the latter’s bed chambers. Before them was a pair of month-old kittens, mewing and pawing at one another playfully. The sisters smiled, petting the sweet little creatures with one hand and withdrawing daggers from little boxes which sat next to them. Saris began to speak low words, drawing darkness into the room. A disturbingly arctic chill enveloped the air; they could see their breaths in front of them. She swayed from side to side, her sister following suite. Soon the air was thick with dark magic and it started getting stuffy, the chill leaving the air. Saris looked at Natosha as they both raised their daggers and brought the blades down through the necks of the kittens. A whirlwind of warmer air swirled about them, lifting their hair about wildly. Natosha used her magic to light a lantern on the mantle of the fireplace.
Something growled.
Their breaths quickened as they looked at one another. The growls became louder, and a foul smell tinged their nostrils; Saris made a disgusted face.
It appeared behind Natosha, hulking over her sitting form and watching her with its many eyes.
Saris felt her breath catch. “Be still, my sister.”
Natosha obeyed, giving the slightest of nods. Her eyes flicked to a point behind Saris. “You’d best do the same.”
Saris felt the presence behind her right before she felt the warm breath on the side of her neck, just below her earlobe.
“Lovely as ever, dear Saris,” said a hauntingly familiar voice.
“My Lord Eerich,” she whispered.
He nuzzled her neck and goose bumps sprang up her arms as fought the urge to cringe. “I am pleasantly surprised at being summoned to what must be one of your bedrooms.”
Natosha could see her sister struggling not to appear uncomfortable and tried to avert his attentions. “There is a reason for us to summon you, Eerich.”
He glanced at her with sharp eyes. “One thing which I am not is stupid, girl. You would never call me here without being in need of something. Do you think me a fool?”
She shook her head fervently. “That I do not for certain. You are the wisest of the gods.”
He smiled, showing crooked teeth. “Your flattery will get you nowhere, but I still like to hear the words you speak. It’s almost as if you’re groveling at my feet like a dog for a pat on the head.”
Natosha’s face reddened at the idea of being compared to an animal. “I am merely showing you respect.”
Eerich bit Saris’ neck hard, making her cry out. “Tell me why you brought me here, or I shall leave a very unhappy god.”
“We called you here to ask you what happened with our magic in the wee hours of the morning,” Saris answered.
Eerich smiled as he released her, walking around to face both of them. “You have my interest peaked. What happened this morning?”
“We tried to drown that little girl and her so-called army,” Natosha said bitterly. “It almost worked; then something went wrong.”
Saris looked at the god of the dead pointedly. “Did you do it? Did you stop us?”
He barked out a laugh. “No, that I did not Saris.”
Natosha said, “Then it must be Emaree. Why did you make her powers so strong? Ours have always been stronger!”
Eerich rolled his eyes. “You are tiring, Natosha.”
“But, you must’ve helped her. We tried using magic against the young queen that killed our husband, but something happened,” Saris said.
“What happened?” said Eerich with a hint of genuine curiosity. “Do tell.”
“The spell started to work, but was countered,” Natosha answered bitterly. “What do you know of this?”
Eerich chuckled. “For once, I actually know nothing about it. It is a very interesting happenstance.”
“Then why do you seem so pleased?” Natosha asked.
“I think it is amusing.”
“Tell me, God of the Underworld…did Emaree do this? Did she sabotage our spell?”
Eerich shook his head. “She is powerful enough to. You underestimate her greatly.”
“Is that a ‘yes’?” Saris inquired. “Are you telling us she did it?”
He became serious. “No, I am not. Emaree did not do this. And you would not be wise to punish her for things she hasn’t done. You will reap the anger that you sow, child.”
Natosha stood up and turned on the god. “Then tell us who countered our magic. I intend on killing them. Speak their name.”
“If they were human, I’d be able to tell you who they were.”
The twins stared in shock; after a moment, Natosha spoke. “What sort of creature was it? It must be stopped. I will not have my magic rivaled as though I am a mere commoner.”
Eerich looked at her strangely. “You would challenge a god?”
She thrust up her chin. “I can slay a god if given the chance.”
Eerich was in front of her in an instant, backing her up until she was against the cold stone of the wall. “Mortals are not fit to kill gods. You need to keep that in mind.”
He disappeared, leaving her breathless with fear. Saris stood and ran over to her, hugging her tightly.
“God or not, we shall take care of them,” her sister whispered. “We’ll kill them all if we must.”
A horn blared in the distance, and Queen Silvia gave Rituel a not-so-gentle nudge with her feet to spur him towards the front of the army. Her king and his brother awaited her there, as well as Dalton, Grant, and Cambry. They each gave a half-bow from atop of their horses and let her lead the way. They were to reach the gates of Nillias before nightfall.
On the hillside above them, two pairs of eyes viewed the impressive army. Each wondered if the queen and her king could handle what the stars had written for them there. The fates of so many, left with so few, and the hopes of gods left in the wake. Holding hands, the pair watched until the army was nearly out of sight.
From one of their eyes, a single tear dropped.
About the Author
Sherri Beth Mitchell was born in Virginia and raised in a small town in Western North Carolina. She began writing at the ripe age of six, when she discovered she thoroughly enjoyed creating tales. After being published in several poetic anthologies, she chose to start writing short stories, which slowly became full-length books.
Stay tuned for the next book in this series:
“War of the Realm”
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