King of the Unblessed

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Chapter Twelve

  Gregor ran through the dark forest, light on his feet as he jumped over fallen logs. The path he chose was rough, but he dare not take the trail. Once between the two armies, he stopped, unable to see either side. Drawing back his longbow, he held his breath, firing a flaming arrow at first Merrick’s and then Ean’s camp. Then, without pause, he ran back to camp just in time to hear the guards call out the first warnings. He blended easily into the busy encampment completely unsuspected of foul deeds as King Ean’s men readied for war. No one would ever know who started the war, for Gregor had shot both a golden arrow and a black.

  * * *

  The first blows of battle struck the earth at dawn, just as stretches of pink light spread over the forest. Lucien watched it all from his perch high above, grinning widely at that which he’d brought about. Flitting over the forest, he saw everything but did not interfere.

  King Merrick raised his sword high. He yelled, leading his men toward Ean’s army. Lord Kalen and his Berserks were right behind him, their hideous curses calling over the battlefield. The noise accompanied the sound of breaking bones as trolls joined Merrick’s attack. The ugly creatures swung their giant clubs to crush the enemy. Goblins hid in trees, jumping down to distract the light elves as Merrick and his dark elves gained the upper hand.

  King Ean, no less brave, met his brother’s men head on. The forest echoed with the sounds of war, metal clashing against metal. Screams pitched against dying screams as immortal lives ended early. Fires were set by two meddlesome sprights with a powerful wand, blazing the trees with a sudden fierceness like giant bonfires against the morning. As the battle between blessed and unblessed raged, gnomes, faeries and pixies worked to put out the fires before they spread.

  Lucien threw back his head and laughed. The fruition of his plans was well upon him. Soon he would rule not only the mortal and immortal realms, he’d be a god amongst them all.

  * * *

  Lord Bellemare, Sir Thomas and Sir Nicholas fought bravely from atop their steeds, breaking through the lines to pass near King Merrick’s encampment with a group of Ean’s guards. There they found nothing but the trampled grounds and discarded tents. Juliana was nowhere to be seen. Having no choice, they fought back through the lines to rejoin Ean’s troops. The light elfin soldiers went their own route, taking on Merrick’s army from behind.

  “There!” Hugh yelled, pointing to an opening in the trees. He rode his horse through, hearing the thundering hooves of Thomas’ and Nicholas’ mounts behind him. Hugh glanced over his shoulder as he made a small clearing. Nicholas was pinned on the other side of the opening, blocked by two large trolls. A third, pockmarked troll lumbered from the trees, coming up behind Thomas. “Thomas! Left!”

  Hugh jerked the reins, turning his horse sharply to ride back toward his brother. Thomas swung, his sword cracking against the troll’s club. The weapon splintered, throwing Thomas from his horse. The troll clubbed the horse, sending it flying through the air. Hugh dodged the animal, hearing it thud and skid behind him. Nicholas managed to break through to join them. Hugh rode hard for Thomas, reaching out his hand. Thomas latched onto Hugh’s wrist and swung up behind him.

  The pockmarked troll swung again, striking Thomas in the back, sliding him hard into Hugh. They were pushed off the steed. The stallion kept running as a nearby tree burst into flames. Its neigh of panic echoed over the small clearing.

  Hugh pushed up from the ground, rolling Thomas off his back. Nicholas fought the troll, screaming at it as he swung his sword. The other two had disappeared. Slime spat from the pockmarked troll’s large mouth as he yelled back. Suddenly, the creature stopped, his eyes widening. Without obvious reason, the fierce creature turned and ran away.

  “Thomas,” Hugh cried, wiping the blood trailing from his brother’s mouth. Thomas’ eyes stared up at the sky, unmoving. His body was twisted at a strange angle and his chest quivered with each shallow breath. “Nicholas, help me!”

  Instantly, Nicholas was at his side. He stared down at Thomas’ broken body. The fallen man coughed, spewing blood out of his mouth. His breath became a long hiss.

  “Thomas?” Hugh said, feeling helpless. He reached to touch him, only to draw his hands back. Thomas’ hand twitched and Hugh grabbed it, squeezing. “Thomas.”

  “Hugh, we cannot leave him to suffer like this,” Nicholas said. “I would not want to be left in such a manner.”

  “Argh!” Hugh’s whole body jerked as he yelled. A tear trailed down his face. Shaking, he nodded. Nicholas lifted his sword up into the air, blade down. He trembled as he aimed the weapon over Thomas’ heart. Hugh grabbed hold of the sword’s hilt. “He is my brother. I will do it.”

  Nicholas relinquished the sword, nodding once. He jutted his chin bravely into the air. His chest rose with heavy pants. Quietly, he swore, “You will be avenged, my friend.”

  “You’ve lived well, my brother,” Hugh whispered. He lifted the sword. “May you be greeted by pretty women and stout mead on the other side.”

  * * *

  Juliana grew tired of pacing the castle. Merrick and his men had gone. Even most of the goblins had left with him, leaving her with Iago. She couldn’t believe it. Merrick had walked out on her with no real farewell. Every second since, she’d feared she might not see him again. In the moments the fear was at its worst, she’d think of a hundred things she’d want to say to him if she ever got the chance. Then she’d remember all the reasons she’d never say them. She was held captive by him. He never denied killing Eadward and his reasons for keeping her were vague. Or maybe it was that she didn’t want to admit he had no real reason for keeping her, that his reason wasn’t because he had any feelings for her.

  Merrick was different in so many ways from the men she had known. Least of which was the way he made her heart race and the thoughts drain from her head when he was near. Just thinking about him made her dizzy. There was so much about the immortal realm she didn’t understand. She was so confused.

  When she wasn’t thinking of King Merrick, her thoughts turned to Thomas and Hugh. As the days passed and they did not come for her, she began to worry they would never come. Were they at Feia? Had something happened to them? Juliana knew they would never willingly leave her behind. She swallowed, nervous, praying they were far away from the battle this day. They were mortals in a world of magic.

  The uncertainty of not knowing what was happening was too much. Tears of worry pooled in her eyes, but she did not cry out. Fear ate at her until she was sick to her stomach and the mere thought of eating made her nauseous. It didn’t help her appetite that Iago gleefully swallowed live slugs before her.

  She thought of Kalen’s words. Is the chance to know the truth worth the risk?

  There was one chance to discover all she wanted to know. But did she dare go to the garden? Did she trust Merrick to find her if she didn’t make it out? Could he find her? Had he tricked her about the garden as he’d tricked her about other things? Juliana closed her eyes. She had to know what was going on. What she imagined had to be much worse.

  Evading Iago was easy. The goblin was asleep before the fire, curled into a ball on the stone floor, his leg twitching like a dog. She went to the hall leading to the garden. The castle seemed abnormally quiet as she made her way to the door. Stopping, she looked out of the window at the path. The shadowed black stone and tall walls didn’t look that frightening. Her hands shook and she didn’t move for a long time.

  “I have to know,” she told herself. Juliana pushed the door. Moonlight streamed down from above. The moon was bright in the sky, though it was day. Realizing it was the first time she’d walked out of the palace since her arrival, she turned, looking up. The castle loomed before her. The hooked spires curled into the moonlit sky, frighteningly twisted against the cloudy heavens. A slight breeze hit her as she stepped backward, stirring her tunic gown about her legs. The clouds rolled across the sky and the spires seemed to shift and move in the breeze.


  Holding her breath, she glanced around. A side yard extended from both sides of the black cobblestone. A dark wall encased the area, making it impossible to see out. She stepped to the edge of the path, trying to see into the corner where the castle met the wall. Her toe kicked a rock. Instead of bouncing into the cut grass, it disappeared. She gasped, her legs shaking as she fell down on the pathway. She sat on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Her heart raced out of control. Taking a stone, she threw it against the far wall. It bounced off the stone with a clink before it too fell through the yard.

  “A glamour,” Juliana whispered, somehow comforted to hear her own voice in the silent night. She reached out, dipping her hand down into the yard. It fell through. She jerked it back. “I can’t do this.”

  Juliana tried to edge back, but when she glanced over her shoulder, the door to the palace was gone. She was trapped. The pointed lancet windows gave off a soft orange glow from within, helping to light her way. It was too late to turn back. She had but one choice. She had to go forward.

  She crawled a few paces over the path before getting the nerve to stand. The arched entryway to the garden didn’t change as she stepped carefully through it. The path veered off in several directions. Knowing she needed to get to the center, she went straight. The plants along the walls were withered and neglected. She lightly touched the vines, only to quickly draw her hand back. Thorns as sharp as blades edged the vines. Every few feet the path would offer her another direction. She kept forward. Then the path stopped. When she turned around, the way was blocked. The maze had changed.

  Juliana bit her lip, listening. The night was quiet. She could not hear the stones shift and move. She took another route, trying to work her way toward the center. It was no use. Every turn was a dead end. When she tried to backtrack, the maze was different. She was truly lost.

  In a panic, she ran faster, trying to beat the changing walls. The thorns snagged her gown and she tore it away, screaming in frustration. The gown snagged on the other side and was stuck. She jerked it wildly to free it. After several pulls it gave loose. She fell back against the thorns, slicing her upper arm.

  Juliana squeezed her eyes shut against the pain. She felt warmth dripping on her hand and had to look. Blood ran down her arm, covering the back of her hand and dripping onto the stone floor. Jerking at her skirt, she tore off a long strip.

  This time when the stone moved, she heard it. Juliana glanced up. Where her blood splattered on the vines, crimson flowers bloomed. They were the color of her blood, looking almost liquid in the moonlight. The path opened around the flowers, pulling apart. Shaking, she stood and stepped through. Her arm still dripped and flowers bloomed up from the path where the droplets fell.

  The wall parted again for her, opening up to let her pass. Her arm throbbed and she tied the wound with the strip of material. Each time she stepped forward, a new wall would part and open. Behind her, the walls closed. She kept going until she was in the center of the maze.

  The center garden was a large enclosed circle, the ground covered in stone. It was plain, with a bench and empty vases along the thorny edges. Looking around, she saw that there was no way out. In the middle of the center garden was a platform. A giant basin sat on top of a long column. She went to it, ignoring the ache in her arm. Horrible creatures were carved into the base with human victims held within their hideous grasps.

  Stepping on the platform, Juliana looked into the shallow pool of water. Her features reflected back to her in the moonlight. She glanced up at the dark sky. The big moon was directly overhead.

  Glancing back down, she touched her cheek. She looked thin, pale. Blood smudged her forehead. She rubbed at it, but it did no good.

  “Hello?” she said to the water. “I would like to see King Merrick, please.”

  The water didn’t move. Remembering Merrick with the bowl of water, she tapped her finger on the watery surface. It rippled her reflection, but nothing appeared.

  “Maybe start with the past,” Juliana whispered. “Show me who killed Lord Eadward.”

  The water didn’t move. She sighed in frustration. She’d come too far not to get her answers. Juliana glanced down at her bloodied hand, remembering how the blood had seemed to open the walls. She lifted it up, tapping the water with a bloody finger. Red clouded the clear water.

  “Show me how Lord Eadward of Tyrshire died,” Juliana said to the basin. “Who killed him?”

  The water glimmered. A light shone from within. Juliana gasped, a weak noise leaving her throat as Eadward appeared. The image was a little fuzzy, undulating on the rippling surface, but she could see him well enough. He was sleeping. She could see his chest moving, his lips quivering with breath as he snored. Then his eyes opened and they seemed to look at her. He had nice eyes, a kind round face. She wouldn’t have loved him, but it would have been a good marriage.

  “Is he alive?” she asked, hopeful. Juliana touched the side of the bowl, gripping it with her good hand.

  Eadward’s image turned from her. She made out the garbled sound of his voice, but she couldn’t understand the words or see who he was talking to. Still seeing his back, she watched as he leaned over to a small table to grab a goblet. He lifted the cup to drink.

  “Eadward,” Juliana sighed, hoping he would somehow hear her. She may not have loved the man, but she did not wish him harm.

  As the word left her lips, a sword glistened in orange firelight. Juliana screamed as Eadward was struck. She couldn’t see the attacker but for his hand on the sword. The basin’s reflection of the event was too fuzzy to make out the details of the man’s clothing.

  The goblet slipped from Eadward’s fingers as the man fell back, a look of stunned horror on his face. He reached out, grasping the bed as he pulled himself away from the swordsman. The blade struck again, stabbing him in the chest, hacking at him repeatedly. Juliana cried out, covering her eyes and shaking her head. Eadward’s head jerked and bounced on his shoulders from the heavy blows, even after his eyes lifelessly stared out from his face.

  Juliana needed to know. She had to see. Opening her eyes, she forced herself to look. Her hand covered her mouth as if it could somehow protect her from the horror. The hacking stopped by slow degrees, leaving Eadward’s mutilated body almost unrecognizable. Stunned, Juliana’s whole body shook. Her brothers had said Eadward was murdered, but this was too much. Whoever did this had not only killed the noble, but hated him. The feeling of rage overwhelmed her, seeming to radiate out of the basin.

  “Who?” she cried, hitting the water with her palm.

  The water splashed, waving around in its bowl. The image moved, as if looking from Eadward to the attacker. An arm appeared from the sword and then a face. She stared at it, waiting for the water to settle enough to make it out.

  “Nay,” she whispered, not wanting to believe her eyes. “Nicholas. How could you?”

  Blood splattered Nicholas’ face and his eyes burned in a way she’d never seen. Dazed, she watched him pull off his tunic and throw it in the fire. Then he washed his hands and his face in a bowl before dumping the water on the floor and smashing the bowl into the flames.

  Nicholas had killed his father. That meant Merrick was innocent of the death. Why didn’t he say so? Why let her believe? Then she knew. It was like Kalen had said. If he’d denied it, she would never have believed him. Hope unfurled inside her at the thought. Merrick was innocent of the crime. She didn’t love a murderer.

  “I love Merrick.” Juliana gasped. The realization of the depth of her feeling hit her hard, making her heart thunder even more. “I love Merrick.”

  But if Nicholas had killed Eadward, then were Thomas and Hugh in danger?

  “Show my brothers at this exact moment. Show me Hugh and Thomas,” Juliana ordered, touching the water with her bloody hand. She was so numb she could no longer feel the pain in her arm. A white light burst and she saw Hugh and Nicholas flying through the air. They landed in the forest, unconscious. H
ugh still gripped his sword and it was covered in blood. She knew that they were in battle. Hugh’s chest rose in shallow breath. “And Thomas? Where is Thomas?”

  Instead of Thomas, she saw Merrick. Her heart skipped. He was so handsome. She longed to touch him, to tell him she knew the truth and that she was sorry for believing the worst in him with no proof.

  Merrick glanced around. His clothing was marred with blood and his face contorted in anger as he looked down. The image moved, letting her see what he saw.

  “Thomas?” Juliana whispered, not wanting to believe her eyes. Thomas lay bloody and broken on the ground. His blue lips didn’t move. “Thomas?”

  Merrick stood, towering over the body of her brother. In the distance, she saw the trees at which Hugh and Nicholas had been thrown. They too didn’t move. She stared at Hugh’s chest, but couldn’t see him breathe.

  “Merrick, why? How could you take my brothers from me?” Juliana turned away, not wanting to see more. For a brief moment, knowing Merrick had not killed Eadward had made her heart soar. But him taking Thomas and Hugh was much worse. Her heart squeezed as she fell down on the ground, unable to see more. She gagged, trying to breathe over the pain in her chest. Between ragged breaths, she swore, “I will never forgive you for this.”

  * * *

  Lucien pulled back his hand mirror, smiling as he saw what Lady Juliana saw. How she’d gotten into the garden, he’d never know, but it was fortunate she had. It was easy to see the conclusion to be wrought by Merrick standing over Thomas. If he was lucky, she’d act rashly and kill herself before Merrick got back. Or perhaps she’d flee. Either way, Lucien would make sure he was there when Merrick needed him most, when the Unblessed King’s anger was at its peak.