by Mark Eller
* * * *
Calto stood at the castle gate glaring at the guard. A week’s hard ride had him in a right foul temper for a good glare. After the long and grueling journey, he was in no mood to be challenged by someone so far beneath his station, even if his dress made his station not quite apparent. As yet, he had not stopped at his estate to clean-up and change into his formal robes, not when the queen had need. Even so, both he and his horse were parched, hungry, and tired. Now this–this thing, was blocking his way to the queen. It was all he could do to restrain himself from beating the man senseless. He found it unbelievable the infuriating lowborn actually had the nerve to pull his sword on Calto and deny him entry.
“L–Lord B–B–Belsac said you were not to be admitted.” The guard stuttered. Fear and sweat covered his face, and he seemed to be struggling to hold his sword. “K‒kings orders.” He pointed his blade toward Calto’s stomach and thrust it out until it almost touched Calto’s shirt.
Calto fumed, infuriated. How dare this buffoon have the effrontery to threaten him? Ineffectively, true, but still a threat.
Calto sneered. “How dare you raise your sword, let alone your voice to me? I will see you drawn and quartered for this insolence. No High Priest of Anothosia has ever been refused entrance to the castle. King’s orders or not, I am here at the queen’s request.”
Rigid with rage, Calto stared into the guard’s eyes, daring him to continue denying his will. The moonstone atop his polished white staff flared up, nearly blinding with the intensity of its light. At his hip, Larson’s sword hummed. Calto reached inside, drew his Goddess’s power to him, ready to turn the man to ash if he did not let him pass. This defiance of Belsac’s orders might cost the guard his head, but that was of little matter. Calto would not abandon his queen. If he had to do so, he would battle his way into the castle and lay waste to any who tried to stop him.
Hissing when the blazing light struck him, the guard seemed to writhe in pain before dropping his sword. “Forgive me.” Falling to his knees, he prostrated himself before the priest. “Please, I’m a faithful man. It’s known a priest of Anothosia may not strike an innocent down.”
Snarling, Calto withdrew his hand from his sword’s hilt even though he wanted to kick the guard hard enough to make his bones rattle inside his armor. “You are a disgrace. Stand up. Escort me to the queen, and then clean yourself up. For goddess sake— you are a palace guard— and yet you look filthy.”
Truthfully, the man smelled even worse than he looked— like sex, blood, and something else. Calto wasn’t sure what. He only knew the guard smelled wrong.
Whimpering, cringing, the guard stood up. “Yes, My Lord. Yes, I will attend to my appearance. The queen is somewhere inside.”
Calto brushed past him, his mind twisted in knots of rage. He would kill any man who dared threaten his queen.
Behind him a screech rang out, sending stabs of pain through his body. Acting on trained instinct, Calto dropped and rolled to the side, swinging his staff as he did so. The blow landed alongside what should have been the guard’s head.
The creature materializing above him bore row upon row of needle teeth in a lizard’s skull, and it possessed long taloned fingers. Appearing at least a foot taller than Calto, its red, filth-covered scales shimmered like liquid fire. Calto was unsure exactly what type of creature it was, but did know one thing; this monster came from Hell, and it thirsted for his blood.
The beast screeched in pain and spat blood when the staff struck. The place where Calto’s staff landed sizzled and popped, burning a ragged trench deep into the side of the thing’s face. It lunged at Calto again, its grotesquely long muzzle snapping and biting at Calto’s throat while trying to pin him to the ground with its weight.
Calto jerked his body sideways and rolled as serrated teeth took a chunk out of the hard packed earth next to his head. Dropping his staff, he loosened and pulled free his sword, slashing at the Hell creature’s side, biting the blade into its flesh with blinding light. The evil stench of cursed blood filled the air, and black liquid sprayed across his white robe. The smell of the thick, tar-like substance filled Calto’s senses, making him light-headed and nauseous.
Ripping his sword free of the creature’s flesh, Calto struck again. Rearing back with a scream, the creature staggered away from the burning blade, swinging its sinewy arms wide. Calto surged to his feet and drove the blade into the damned being’s belly. A screech tore from its lips like a physical force, almost driving the priest to his knees.
“Anothosia!” Calto shouted. “I beg you! Cast this creature to the depths from which it crawled! Send it back to its despised master!”
Scales parted and innards flowed as Anothosia’s searing white light burned into the being’s body. A look of evil rage tore across its face. It opened its mouth to scream again, but the light engulfed it, cutting short its cries of defeat and pain. Scales, talons, teeth— all disintegrated.
Calto’s body shook from adrenaline, ready for the next attack. Whirling about, he looked for more hellkind, but none came. None at all. Panting, he cleaned his sword on his already befouled robe. With careful movements, he shoved the sword back into its scabbard and stared at the spot where the hellborn had been.
What in the two hells had attacked him? It was not wholly hellhound, snake, or demon. Were Athos and Zorce continuing Zorce’s original nano experiments, started back when Zorce and the other gods were still human? Were they crossbreeding a new species of hellkind?
Calto grabbed his staff and tried to brush black ash from his face and hands. He looked down at his stained robes and growled. Though not his best, the robe had once been valuable. Someone, or something, would pay dearly for this outrage.
Entering the castle without further challenge, Calto made his way silently through the deserted halls. Fear urged him to run, but common sense told him to be cautious. He saw no courtiers, attendants, or guards while traversing the halls. There were no merchants or dignitaries haggling and hobnobbing in the corridors leading to the great hall. And what of the clerks? The palace seemed curiously inactive for the center of the kingdom's administration.
Calto quickened his pace. Fear sat in his belly like a heavy boulder. Politically correct or not, he would seek the queen in her bedchambers. With the mood he was in, he dared anyone to try and stop him. Unfortunately, no one did.
By the time Calto ascended to the section of the castle reserved for the queen and her court, the knight’s heart hammered hard against his rib cage with anticipated action. Upon reaching the queen’s corridor, he paused and looked carefully around for any sign of opposition. Not a soul stirred. Not a guard attacked.
Where were her personal guards?
Still being careful, quiet, he crept to the door of Queen Elise’s chambers, half afraid of what he would find. If she were not in her rooms he would next search the dungeons and the cemetery. There would be hell to pay if he found her in either place. His fear worsened at the thought. How dared her personal guard leave Queen Elise unprotected, unless there was no longer an Elise to protect? Reaching the door to the queen’s chambers, he knocked softly and released a sigh when she hesitantly spoke from the other side.
“Who is it? What do you want?”
“My Queen, I beg you answer. It is I, Most High Priest Morlon.” Despite his best efforts, Calto could not keep the tremble from his voice.
The door opened a crack, then the queen threw it open wide, allowing him to see her pale face flood with relief. Her beautiful green eyes looked tired, tormented. Hair tumbled down her shoulders and back in a lose tangle of copper and chestnut curls. Calto’s eyes drifted to Elise’s pale pink lips. Her tongue darted out and licked them to a shiny moue. Dazed, he felt as if he had drank a bit too much wine the night before and still felt its effects. Even in this, her most dire straight, she was a vision that filled his eyes.
Eyes narrowing, the queen looked at his stained robes. “Lord Morlon, are you injured?” She reached ou
t a weapon callused hand— a hand he wanted to kiss.
Calto knelt before her, took her strong, slender fingers in his own. Touching them to his forehead, he forced his mind to focus on the seriousness of state affairs instead of the soft scent of her skin.
“My Queen, it is not my condition I worry for. You called for me, and I see things are seriously amiss. Tell me, are you all right?”
She squeezed his hand before slowly pulling hers from his grasp. Her touch left sweet warmth behind.
“Yes and no. Please, Lord Morlon, rise. We must speak.”
Calto stood but did not enter her chambers. To be found with the queen alone would be a death sentence for him and perhaps, also, for her.
“Is there another place we could speak, My Queen?”
She turned and looked at him. “Please, Lord Morlon, there is no other place. I am spied upon everywhere but my private chambers and am seldom allowed to leave except under escort.” Her hands clenched at her side. “I know the risk Calto. I would not ask, but…”
Calto drew his shoulders back and steeled his resolve. If his beautiful Elise wished this, then so it would be. Without hesitation and with breath quickening, he walked into his queen’s chambers. Although he had been close to the queen many times when giving her the goddess’s blessings or called upon to give his council on matters of religion or commerce, he had never before attended to her in her private chambers. The idea of it seemed intimate— perhaps too intimate.
Relief spread across Elise’s face when he crossed her threshold. “I need your help. The king’s pair have stepped up their efforts to get rid of me, and I’m afraid my husband is listening to their pleas. Calto, one month ago I miscarried another son.”
Calto’s stomach tightened. If he had been here a month before— but he had not known her pregnancy was endangered, and he had not been at liberty to return to the castle until summoned.
“Forgive me, My Queen. I should not have left you.” He began to drop down to one knee. Elise stopped him with a held out hand.
“It’s not your groveling I need. If I cannot produce a male heir the king will divorce me, and I’ll be sent back to my father in shame.”
Anger stirred in the pit of Calto’s stomach. “That will not happen. I will personally see to it.” He cringed inwardly at a sudden image of the king’s grotesque mountain of flesh smothering the queen’s firm, lithe body.
“You will personally see to what, Lord Morlon?” The king’s angry baritone boomed from hallway behind him. “And why are you here? I gave the gate guard specific orders you were not to be admitted.”
Stiffening, Calto turned slowly while anger and insult at the king’s words poured over him like scalding water. “So, you admit to trying to have me murdered?”
The king’s porcine eyes widened in shock. “Murder? No‒I‒How dare you question me in that tone, and who said anything about murder? Damn you, Lord Morlon, you’re putting words into my mouth, but you condemn yourself by your presence in my wife’s rooms.” After pushing the rest of his girth through the doorway, King Vere drew his sword.
Face stone hard, Calto stepped in front of his queen. Unbidden, the power of Anothosia filled Calto’s soul with more force than she had ever filled him before. Like jumping into a too hot bath, her power scalded him, boiled his innards. His senses momentarily reeled. The queen’s chamber filled with golden light, and the king dropped his sword, stumbling backward.
Calto scowled. How dare the rotund bowl of lard threaten him, Anothosia’s High Priest! Vere might be king, but Calto’s family had endured as a house of respect and strength for centuries longer than the king’s family dared claim. The Morlon’s were one of the founding fathers of Yernden.
“You have shamed yourself before the goddess. Kneel and beg her forgiveness.” Calto’s voice filled the room and spilled out into the hallway like an angry beast. For a moment, it looked as if the shuddering king would obey. Instead, he opened his mouth and yelled.
“Guards! Guards! I’m being attacked.” Fat jiggled as he tripped over the hem of his long blue robes while stumbling back out into the hallway.
The goddess within Calto raged. Anothosia propelled him forward, but before he could strike the cowardly king with his staff, firm, strong hands pulled at his arm.
“Calto! No!” Gripping his arm, Elise yanked him back into her chambers. “He is the king. You can’t kill him or we will both be hanged.”
Slumped against the hallway wall, the king whimpered. The footsteps of approaching guards echoed off the cavernous hallway ceiling.
Calto’s frown grew deeper. This was another sign of how slack the castle had become. By rights, those guards should have been in constant attendance on the king. By the Seven and Two, what was going on here?
Shivering with the strength of Anothosia’s rage and acting without thought, Calto pointed the staff at the king. Power shot from the moonstone, encasing Vere’s body in a brilliant flash, sending him to the floor with a groan and a loud thud.
Swords drawn, the guards came upon their king. Looking from king to priest, they gazed in shock at the golden visage of Calto. Some swore while backing away. Others trembled in fear, circling their hearts with shaking fingers, then crossing them, giving the sign of one faithful to Anothosia.
Bending down, the guard captain warily touched the king. “Your Majesty?”
Mumbling something indistinct, King Vere blinked bleary, red-rimmed eyes. “What? Why are you all standing here?” He looked over to where Calto stood in the doorway of the queen’s chambers. “You? How did you get past my guards? Which one disobeyed my orders?”
A guard Calto had never seen before pulled the king’s immense girth from the stone floor as easily as if he were lifting a small pebble. Calto watched the man’s craggy, aged face. Brilliant blue eyes sparkled knowingly at him. Strangely, Calto felt he should know the man. The feeling became strong, and the power within him increased as his goddess flared hotly for a moment. Calto gasped in both shock and wonder as the guard’s face shone with power and knowledge. He started to reach for the man, needing to make the power within him and the power without connect, but just as quickly as the force had come upon the old man, it dissipated, leaving Calto unsure of what he had seen.
The guard’s mouth twitched into a knowing smile as he brushed the dust from Vere’s clothes. “My King, this is Anothosia’s most High Priest. He and the other priests of the Seven have always been welcome here.”
Vere’s beady eyes shifted right, then left, and sweat beaded his brow. “Where’s Belsac?” he whispered. “I need my medicine.”
The guards looked at the king and then back to Calto. The captain stepped forward. “Lord High Priest, what would you have us do?”
“Take him back to his room. Make sure he lies down. I have business with the queen to conduct.”
“Yes, he does, and next time,” Elise’s eyes lit with green fire, and her voice became a low growl. “You will address me as to what is to be done— not my priest.”
The guard’s bearded face became stiff. “Yes, Your Majesty. Forgive my lapse of propriety.” Bowing deeply, he took the king’s arm and led him away.
The guard gone, Calto turned to face Elise. Her pale, oval face looked drawn and sad.
“Calto, what am I to do now? You have just seen a part of what I’m facing.”
With Anothosia’s godhead still upon him, Calto placed his hand upon Elise’s forehead. Power leapt from his hand into her body, lighting her from within. The queen’s eyes instantly turned a soft gold, and her hair reflected a coppery haze of dancing lights. Rapture came upon her, erasing the sorrow from her eyes.
Never before had Calto felt such power course through his body as he had this day. Shaking his head, he wondered where the added strength came from and why. For a moment, the image of the unknown guard flared bright and intense in his mind, revealing to him someone other than an aged warrior. Then, just as quickly, it faded, leaving behind an odd afterimage wh
ich fused with the power of his goddess. Another surge of raw power filled his body and then passed into the queen’s.
Elise’s visage became even more radiant and, if asked, Calto would have sworn he looked into the beauty of her soul. It was like a flickering white fire, intense in the middle, soft around the edges.
Words not his own issued from his mouth. “Child of light and courage, none may take another from your womb. The light of the gods will walk with you in these dark halls, never leaving your side so long as our lights shine within the heavens.”
Elise and Calto gasped as the light released them. Swaying, the queen stumbled into Calto’s arms. He held her tight against his chest, relishing her warm, feminine curves, afraid to let her go. Despite the blessing he had delivered, he loathed the thought of leaving her alone. He wanted to bury his face in her soft curls, inhale her delicate scent, and swear his allegiance to only her, but that would be far past what was proper. Holding her like this was indecent enough, and besides, the muck upon his robes was certainly ruining her green silk dress.
The queen seemed to think of this as well for she suddenly pulled herself from his embrace.
Swallowing, Calto dropped to his knee. “Forgive me your Majesty. Your beautiful dress— I–I meant no—”
Her voice was warm, soft. “Please rise, Calto. You did nothing but bring me peace and give me the comfort and reassurance no one else had the courage to give. Besides, I have dozens of beautiful dresses just like this one. None hold meaning.”
Calto dared to lift his head and look into his queen’s eyes. Heart stuttering, he locked his gaze with hers. Could she see his adoration, feel the love nestled deep in his soul?
Glorious woman! She shone not only with her own beauty, but with the beauty of the blessing just granted her. He could not keep his eyes from trailing down the length of her body and back up to her face. The afterglow of the blessing still flashed in her eyes, and her smile radiated pure peace. At that moment she looked more goddess than mortal.
Calto stood. “I will send two of my knights here to guard you.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “No, Calto. Neither the king’s advisor nor his whore dare touch me now. I have faith in the power of Anothosia’s blessing. The next child I carry shall come to term, and I will be gifted with a son. This I was promised by the gods themselves.”
Elise smiled, slow and sweet. Calto’s heart warmed. He nearly fell to his knees. Her beauty was a thing of awe and her presence a balm to his aching soul.
She sighed. “And the safety of the kingdom comes before my own. You cannot afford to pull even one knight from the task of finding the second hellhole in our kingdom. Thank you for coming for me. You are truly one of the few I can call friend. I’ll be fine now. Go. Go before more problems arise or your king gains any sense about him.”
Calto’s heart crumbled. He longed to hold her flesh to his in an intimate embrace. He knew this impossible, but a heart will want what it wants. His wanted Elise.
