by Cheri Marie
I sink to the floor yelling for my son and cursing my brother. Arthur’s nurse appears in the doorway. I jump to my feet staring at the sad excuse of a woman. Seething with anger I flick my hand at her and murmured a spell Morgana had taught me so long ago. The woman starts to cry out as her vision blurs then blackens into dark nothingness. Her fingers rake at her failing eyes as her cry becomes louder. With just a look, I froze the loud scream deep within the woman. She would never see nor talk again. The nurse fumbles and trips as she tries to run down the hall. A cackle of laughter rips through the stagnant air. I will find my backstabbing brother one day and when I do I will unleash all the anger and hurt pumping through my veins.
The next few months I drag myself along—my face red and stained from crying every night-- trying to stay busy hoping and wishing that Uther would return and send out a search party for Arthur. Although I know my brother won’t be found until he is ready. Igraine’s face has lost some of its youth and she doesn’t even whisper Arthur’s name. She keeps to her bower as I keep to my wing of the castle. We both blame each other and ourselves but we can’t face each other’s shame nor accusations. We did agree that Uther was not to be told until he had returned to us safely.
Uther returns defeated by Drummond, who now held Tintagel. We met him with long faces rushing to him in a bluster, I fall to my knees blubbering that my brother had stolen our son. Snot runs down my lips as the tears soak into the dusty ground below me. I dig my fingers into the hard earth wishing I could dig my own grave. Uther helps me to my feet, his tired face turns white as he turns to Igraine for confirmation to my wild tale. He blinks away the tears and walks hunchbacked into the castle.
I refuse to join them at dinner although it was a feast to celebrate Uther’s return. I would rather stalk my rooms planning my revenge on someone I couldn’t even find. Uther ends the celebration early and makes his way to the west end of the castle where I paced lost in thought-- a ghost in my own rooms. I hear Uther make his way across the cold room through another door leading to my lonely bedroom. He sits on my bed as I walk back and forth like a mad woman. He pats the space beside him and I sit uncomfortably with the silence. I wish he would yell at me for my inattentiveness or something. He lets out a long sigh and reaches for my face.
“Mim, our son is fine. I promise.” Uther begins but I jump up before he can finish.
“How can you say that?” I question hysterically. “Our boy is missing; your only heir,” I cry out as I wrap my arms across my stomach. I feel as if someone had scooped out my insides and left some vile wiggling thing behind.
Before I could carry on, Uther stands up and walks toward me, “I know because this was Igraine’s plan. She spoke with Merlin about keeping Arthur safe. Igraine knows Drummond will not give up until I am dead and she belongs to him. What do you think he would do to our son, my only heir?" I stare at him not trusting the words I have heard. That bitch couldn’t stand the thought of me being happy, but if it keeps Arthur safe.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” I ask vehemently.
“She did what she felt was right, she did remind me that legally she is Arthur’s mother and it is her right and duty to make sure he stays safe for the future of Pendragon,” Uther sounds exasperated with my questions. I ask no more knowing he is tired and already planning another excursion to win back the watery banks of Tintagel. As long as Arthur was safe, Uther could focus on the upcoming battle.
Chapter Thirteen
His war room was covered with maps outlining mountains and rivers. Men were in and out for weeks as they argued over the best tactics to employ. I stand at the door waiting for the rest of the commanders to leave. I had come up with a marvelous plan to rid ourselves of our enemy for good. I had consulted the cards during the full moon and I was certain my plan would work and that my son would be returned home as soon as possible. The men give me a slight nod of their head as they exited the room. Many wore tired expressions while the younger ones delighted in the prospects of a battle.
I walk in to catch Uther relieving himself into the chamber pot kept to the corner of the room. He turns around with his fleshy sword in hand waves it back and forth. His booming laughter bounced off the walls. I double over in laughter as well, thinking this high king is more child at times.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he speaks casually as he sheathed his sword.
“I think I have a plan that will give you an advantage over Drummond.” I gauge his reaction before continuing. He sits down and rests his head on his folded hands.
“Drummond lusts after Igraine, right? That’s the reason for his poaching of your lands—jealousy that you have something he always wanted. Well, I propose that we give Drummond what he wants and while he is enjoying the slaking of his long drawn out lust, you and your men can attack.” I finish, pleased with my plan.
Uther’s shakes his head. “I will not allow my wife’s reputation to be sullied with such actions. She would bring dishonor to our house if I allowed such a thing.” His face and neck turn a deep red as he yells his reply.
I slide across the floor and sit on the corner of his wooden desk filled with parchment and maps. “I am not saying sacrifice Igraine’s honor, my love. I am suggesting that I disguise myself as Igraine. I am sacrificing myself,” keeping my voice calm and soft.
We argue about my plan for days. I go to Igraine to see if she can help me talk sense into Uther. This plan would keep everyone safe and put an end to Drummond’s plundering. Igraine promises to speak to Uther and her cousin, who was one of Uther’s most trusted commanders. As soon as the plan is mentioned in the war council, they all agree that my plan was the best one on the table.
We go about putting everything in motion. Uther writes to Drummond promising one night with Igraine if he would leave Uther’s land alone as well as the outlying villages. Igraine adds her own words at the end of Uther’s letter giving her consent to spend one night with Drummond and no more.
I ready myself, a little scared since I have only known the touch of one man, Uther. I steady my nerves as we ride down the river to meet with Drummond. He is to meet us here and return to thusly, by noon tomorrow. Turning the onyx over in my hand, hoping mother will lend me her strength. Drummond is waiting in the clearing, a few men scattered about in case this turned out to be a trap. Uther helps me down from the frothing horse and lays a kiss on the tip of my nose. I hold out my hand with the broken stone.
“Take this,” I say as I hand him the jagged rock. “Your sword is missing a piece of stone and I think this will fit perfectly, just as we do. Then you will pass Excaliber to our son and he will know his parents are always with him.” I let my hand fall to my side as I look to the grey sky where my childhood friend flew over the exchange.
Drummond’s eyes follow me as I walk closer to him. He bends into an elegant curtsey and takes my hand in his as he helps me onto his spotted horse. I keep my eyes cast down not looking at Uther as I am carried away by another man. I was careful to mimic Lady Igraine’s every movement. We don’t go far, just beyond the river where a little cottage sits alone amongst the forest trees. I make sure the bottle of potion I brewed the other night was still stuck in my stockings. I hear the cawing of a raven and know my friend is close by. Drummond moves about the cottage busy finding cups and filling them with mead.
He hands me the earthenware cup and I drain the honey flavored mead down in one big gulp. He begins to talk about old days when he and Igraine were children. I laugh and try to keep up with the conversation but I am ready for this to be over with—I want to see my son—to hold him in my arms and inhale his sweet smell. He is well into his cups when I decide that its time for him to go to sleep before he gets any ideas of crawling between my legs. I stand with a stumble, the mead hitting me harder tonight than ever.
“Mi’Lord, would you care for one more drink before we enact what should have been our honeymoon night?” I say exactly the words he has been dying to hear for years. Not wai
ting for his answer, I take his empty cup and pour it halfway full with the mead—then I add the strong hallucinate potion without him even turning around.
As I hand him his cup, I wink at him as I show him a little leg. He slams the drink down his throat as he tries to stand up. His feet go out from under him. I stand over his body watching his chest rise and fall. He would sleep like the dead but his dreams will be so vivid he will believe them to be true. But no matter, he wouldn’t live to tell the tale of his night with the Lady Igraine. I pull out a shiny dagger-- the fire from the candle glints off the reflective surface of the small dagger. I plunge it deep within Drummond’s chest feeling the blade slice through his fleshy skin biting into bone and muscle. I want to make sure my son is truly safe so I use the sharp dagger to cut into Drummond’s thick neck, sawing away until his spine snaps and his head is free of his body.
Uther and his men were quick to strike at Drummond’s men. Many were killed while Uther showed most mercy hoping to prove that his rule was just. I walk back to the river, to the meeting spot, holding onto Drummond’s brown greasy hair. Congealed blood is dry on my hands and face. His eyes shut as if he was actually sleeping. Uther shows up covered in blood and dirt and I pitch the head at him and it lands at his feet with a sickening wet thud.
Uther’s eyes are wide as he takes in the sight of his warrior woman. He is on me before I realize what is happening. His grimy hands tear away the blood-soaked dress I wear. My nails leave streaks of blood behind as I dig them into his tough skin. Uther spins me around, pins me up against a tree, where he enters me from behind. I claw at the tree with each hard thrust—heat, and wetness suffuse my body.
We both collapse to the green forest floor panting. I know at that moment that Uther’s seed has taken root and that my belly would begin to swell with the child that was conceived in a frenzy of bloodlust. This child would be a girl—just as powerful as her own mother and father. Morgu, I think to myself as Uther and I journey back to the castle of Pendragon, that will be your name and you my child will be remembered. I will make sure of it.
Rainkor
Angie Brocker
Chapter One
Rainkor Harmony had never been looked at as a typical, mainstream kind of girl, which she considered to be her best feature. Although she was a rare and effortless beauty, easily turning the heads of both men and women, being unpredictable was her natural turn-on. It enabled her to be bad in the best way possible.
“What’s your name, beautiful?” A stranger threw words over his shoulder in Rainkor’s direction. Walking by him smelling of sweet jasmine with mahogany curls bouncing and red lips sucking down pink soda through a straw had turned the man’s head quicker than if he’d been hit in the skull with a two by four.
Moving slowly in his direction, Rainkor smiled slightly while maintaining eye contact with the stranger. Unbuttoning the next tiny round button in line on her shirt, she slipped one hand under the white, nearly see-through material. Running her fingers along the outline of her bra, she suddenly inhaled deeply as she slipped them inside the lacy red lingerie. Looking at the man’s midsection, she spoke loudly, “I just needed a little adjustment, and I can see you do now as well.” Walking closer, she momentarily grabbed the straw with a curled tongue before pulling it from her mouth and drawing in part of her lower lip before speaking again, “Sir, my name is Rainkor Harmony. My momma knew that with a nice last name like that, I’d need a first name that kicked a little bit of ass. Turns out, however, I can kick a lot of ass. Even yours. So, if I were you, and I’m thankful I’m not in this situation, I would take this as your cue to turn around and walk away.”
“Sweetheart, I just decided I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I’m gonna stand here and watch you walk away. Now, scoot big-talker,” the stranger smiled as he stared down at Rainkor.
He watched as she turned away from him and didn’t expect his next sensation would be a kick to the face by a black high heeled boot. Falling back into the overgrown grass just past the sidewalk, he opened his eyes just in time to see Rainkor slowly walk in the opposite direction. “I’m swaying my hips just a little extra for you to watch. You deserve it with that new concussion I just gave you,” she called out.
Rainkor felt the hug of the jittery little tingle she always felt when she had done a good job. It was her reward for pleasing a Ruler of Sullen Souls, or Ross, as she had named him. Ross had always been a part of Rainkor. He had crept in and commanded her soul before she had left the hospital at her birth. Although she didn’t recognize this invader as a separate entity apart from herself until her thirteenth birthday, he had been with her since moments after she had been born.
The history of the Rulers of Sullen Souls is as old as time on earth. All of them possess the souls of newly born babies shortly after they are born, and their rules are simple. One can only enter the life of another if they are weakened in some fashion, because the strong will eventually cause problems. Rainkor wouldn’t be half the person she had become without the assistance of Ross. But if humans could see the vicious wanderers in their true forms prior to entering a soul, they would likely run in fear of the grotesquely misshapen shadows who wait just outside of birthing rooms until they hear the first cry of a newborn infant. Peering into the room, they breathe in deeply to catch the scent of the soul. Some are too old and have been here before over and over until many lessons have been learned. These souls will not work. In fact, the wisest of them know instinctively to fight the Rulers of Sullen Souls. It is the newer ones and those who never seem to learn their lessons that these invaders search for endlessly.
Once a body dies, the Rulers are released to find another host. Most humans never become aware of the uninvited guests in their bodies. At times, the Rulers grow bored and seek more of a challenge and finding adults to infiltrate becomes more of a game to them. Rainkor’s soul was on the verge of becoming unusable by Ross when she was born. Her soul wasn’t new, but it felt just weak enough to Ross for it to become the perfect candidate. She might transform into the perfect partner someday and two separate entities could work together as one perfect power.
Rainkor had always been considered a challenge by adults willing to work with her and their observations came to the same conclusions. She was wise beyond her years with the strength of a grown man. She was also intelligent enough on her own to know that spilling the secret of Ross being a guest host inside her would likely get her locked up and sedated for the rest of her life.
Although she had felt another presence in her head for as long as she could remember, she wasn’t comfortable enough to introduce herself until her thirteenth birthday. She patiently waited for Ross to answer her back for close to an hour, and her nerves had worn thin.
“I will drink bleach if you don’t announce yourself!” she screamed into the cool night air. She was met with silence. “Fine, you asked for it!” Walking to the closet where her mother kept the cleaning products, Rainkor searched for the white gallon container. With no hesitation, she scooped it up and carried it outside to the stairs which led to the tiny backyard behind her home. Twisting the blue cap off, she poured a small amount of the yellowish liquid into the lid. A few drops slipped over the cap and landed on her shoe. “Damn! I just got these today! Well, I may no longer have a need for them. Sticking her pinky finger into the bleach, she made sure some of the liquid stuck before placing that finger in her mouth. ‘Yummy! It tastes like a cold refreshing glass of lemonade!” Placing the cap to her mouth, she stuck her tongue out to lick the remaining contents like a kitten lapping up milk.
“Stop!” A voice inside Rainkor’s head commanded. “We’re going to live harmoniously together for many years to come. I will keep you safe if you choose to listen to me.”
“Who are you?” Rainkor asked out loud to the voice inside her head. “Does this mean I’m crazy? Schizophrenic? What am I?”
“Sometimes we are mistaken for something we are not. I assure you I do exist, and we will be working toge
ther. You cannot rid yourself of me, so do not weaken yourself and try. I’ll remain quiet and silently be your guide until it becomes necessary for me to do more.”
“So, there’s nothing I can do to make you leave?” Rainkor questioned.
“I assure you there is nothing,” the voice answered.
“Well, I suppose I believe you because a part of me has always sensed your presence. You haven’t hurt me yet, and you didn’t allow me to drink bleach, so I guess you can stay. And I’m going to call you Ross. I had a dog named Ross once. He’s dead now,” Rainkor surprised herself with the ease of accepting Ross. But after thirteen years, Ross had already learned to control many of Rainkor’s decisions.
Five years after her first confrontation with Ross, Rainkor found herself walking away from the stranger she had just kicked in the face. After a slight adjustment to the waves in her long mahogany hair, Rainkor continued to walk home at a slow pace.
“Hi honey,” she was greeted by her mom.
“Hello mother,” Rainkor replied. She rolled her eyes as she spoke and drew out each word as though it was an exhausting task to speak to her mom.
