Mythia sighed, a crease forming between her eyebrows. She, along with her closest friends, had thought that finding the three golden scrolls would help them bring peace to the kingdom. It appeared to have had the opposite effect. “I need to see it for myself. There must be something I can do.”
Bello held her head back, studying Mythia. She nodded slowly. “Maybe, but not Trigonus; it’s far too risky. I suppose I could also send a party along to keep you protected…” A smirk spread slowly across her face. “But you know, you may not come back alive. The people blame you for their misfortune. The king claims this curse has been brought upon the kingdom by the wicked queen. They believe your death will end the curse, Mythia.”
Mythia felt like a hot dagger had suddenly plunged into her back. The horrible look upon the faces of the children she had saved from the bounty hunters suddenly made sense. “That's a risk I'm going to have to take. I need to see what's happening out there for myself.” She looked up at Bello, her face set. “How quickly can you put that party together?”
A smirk spread across Bello's clever face. “I like your guts, Queen Mythia.”
4. WARNING BELLS
“The knights can't bare double duties every day, sire,” Regulus explained exasperatedly, his face set, hands on his hips. “It's too much for them. They don't have time to rest or eat. They are growing weak, unable to protect the kingdom with the strength they need.”
King Tribus walked up to him, his emerald eyes flashing with a powerful green flame that was now a permanent part of his expression. “Then take the older knights out of retirement. Lower the minimum age for the guards and hire more, put them on knight's duty.”
Regulus pulled back, a look of bewilderment on his face. “That goes against the written laws.”
His father leaned closer to Regulus, not even an ounce of the man he once was etched within his angry face. “I am the law. And you should take care not to forget that, my son.” He stood up straight and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Even so, there aren't enough people left to hire as guards. The prisons beneath our feet are full to bursting, awaiting to be executed, and surely more bounty hunters are making their way here with more of our people as we speak. I know we are sworn to uphold the law, father, but I'm beginning to think we will run out of people to govern over if these laws continue. When will this madness end?” Regulus knew he had overstepped his boundaries as the words burst from his mouth like steam.
The king's chest slowly moved up and down, his emerald eyes narrowing dangerously at his son. Regulus stood resolute.
King Tribus took in a deep breath. “Guards!”
The prince's eyes, so much like his father's but without the harsh flames, widened with surprise, as two guards rushed into the counsel room. The king pointed a finger at his son. “Take him to the dungeons. I hereby relinquish him from his title until I say otherwise- no one is to abide by his orders.”
Regulus never took his eyes off his father's, as the guards pulled his hands behind his back and tied a rope tightly around his wrists. He did not fight back, as he was dragged across the stone floor, his feet skittering backwards. The king stared right back at his only son, the coldness from his dark heart seeping out through his wide, black pupils. Just as they shoved Regulus out of the room, he could have sworn he saw the pupils of his father's eyes suddenly dilate so wide they completely covered the emerald iris, from between the gap of the closing doors. They shut with an echoing bang.
Regulus tightened his jaw and stood up tall, breathing angrily through his nostrils, while the guards yanked at the rope and pulled him down the entrance hall. The surrounding knights watched with their mouths hanging open as what they were seeing dawned slowly upon them. Lord Pileus and Sir Fort saw him from across the hall and ran up to their friend, light blue cloaks billowing behind them.
“What's going on here?” Pileus demanded, his hazel eyes full of anger.
“We're taking him to the dungeons under the king's orders. He’s been relinquished from his title, for now,” one of the guards answered. He furrowed his brow uncertainly.
“What- why?” Fort shouted, causing more knights to crowd around the scene.
Regulus shot them a warning look. “Just drop it. I went out of line; I shouldn't have pushed my father while he's been so... unstable.” Pileus and Fort frowned but stayed silent. “I'm sure he'll cool off eventually.” Regulus stared meaningfully at Pileus, the older of his two friends. “Until then, take care of my... duties, Pileus. It would be much appreciated. Especially the ones I had planned for tonight.” Pileus seemed to catch his drift, he bowed to the prince, as the guards pulled Regulus down to the dungeons.
Regulus sat on the dusty stone floor, frustration taking over him like a fog in a field. His tiny cell held two other prisoners. A young man with long, dark red hair, laid on his side facing the wall, breathing deeply. The other was so old and fragile, Regulus wasn't even sure if he was still alive, as he laid flat on his back, his eyes closed, and unmoving. Regulus slammed his fist against the floor, a sharp pain searing across his knuckles yet again. Anger flooded through him at the thought of his father's rash behavior. He felt useless here, completely trapped within this iron prison. The image of his trial with the unicorn in the dungeons of Monoceros flashed before his eyes, as the direness of the situation pressed upon him.
He jumped up and grabbed at the cold bars, staring out between them at the row of cells filled with his people. Most of them were either sleeping, or simply staring at the wall, a look of utter hopelessness upon them. He knew they were not being treated with an ounce of humanity. They weren’t bringing water or food down to the prisoners anymore. He wondered why they did not use their powers to get themselves out. Perhaps they were too frightened, or they had absolutely no idea how to control them.
The king had completely lost his mind when the queen broke his heart. Regulus almost understood- when Mythia first showed him she was unmarked, he felt betrayed, angry. But he had moved on from that anger, spending the night in the torrential rain until he realized it didn’t matter. She could not help the way she was born, and he had no right to judge her by what she bore, or in her case, didn’t bear, on her skin. But his father did not forgive so easily, his prejudice against those who were different was far too powerful against his own love for those closest to him.
Regulus never used to care much for marks, but ever since Mythia told him he was more of a unicorn than he realized, he couldn’t help but wonder, how much of his personality was determined by the damn mark and how much control he had over his own thoughts and feelings. Could a shape on his skin really determine who he was, deep inside? Regulus clutched onto his left shoulder, the black circular unicorn seemingly burning beneath his tunic, and wondered if these marks were really a gift or a curse.
Mythia's round eyes suddenly burst into his mind, the brown within her irises the only warmth he had to hold on to during these cold, dark times. He desperately needed to see her eyes in front of his, to feel her soft hand safe in his palm. The need for her was more than his need for food or water. The overwhelming ache pushed him to keep going, so he could see her at least once more. He wasn’t even sure if she was still alive, but the idea that she might no longer exist in the same world as his was far too unbearable to endure, so he had to believe that she was out there somewhere, biding her time.
He broke out of his reverie and looked again at the people in the cells, suddenly realizing with a jolt that there were far more prisoners down here than there were knights or guards in the castle above. A grin slowly spread across his face as a plan began to emerge inside his head. Perhaps he wasn’t completely useless here after all.
◆◆◆
Lord Ulric's light blue cape billowed in the wind, fluttering across the back of his chestnut horse, as they galloped quickly through the stretch of rolling hills heading north from Trigonus. Five more knights of the highest ranking flanked his sides, none of them pleased to be accompany
ing Ulric on their hopeless quest to find the missing queen.
The look of hatred Mythia often held specially for Ulric popped into his mind; that tinge of accusation forever flaming behind her brown eyes when they held on to his, as though she knew. He squeezed the reins so hard he felt them cut into his palms. But how could she know? He thought bitterly to himself. Only one other knew... and I took care of her... He furrowed his brows.
They meandered across the hills out of the city of Trigonus until they reached the very edge of the Borra Forest. One of the knights pulled his horse to a stop and faced Lord Ulric. “What exactly are our orders, Ulric? Hundreds of knights have already combed these woods to no avail.”
Lord Ulric peered over at Lord Rowan as he spoke, before responding to him, his voice full of acid. “There's been new evidence that the queen was seen passing through the Borra Forest, heading north.” The rest of the knights looked uncertain at the prospective outcome.
“She could be long gone by now,” an exceedingly tall, bald knight, Lord Carac interjected. “The northern forest is massive; our chances are exceptionally slim. We would be better off in Trigonus with a goblet of wine, waiting for one of the many bounty hunters to stumble upon her. You had promised we wouldn’t need to come out of retirement during these trying times, Ulric…”
Lord Ulric pushed his horse toward Carac, glaring at him. “The king will have your title if you dare to return from a fruitless journey.” Ulric turned to face all five of the knights, holding himself straight up, full of self-importance. “If you wish to remain in your comfortable lives as lords, and not as peasants, then I suggest we get a move on and do everything within our power to find her.” Carac pulled at his reins and urged his horse into the woods, shaking his head as he did so. The rest of the knights followed.
◆◆◆
The Rejicio houses were built long and narrow, as they were made to house as many families as they could. Bello lived at the very end of one of the first rows ever built, closer to the entrance of the mountain. Her home consisted of four elongated, stretched out rooms. The front door led right into the largest room, which was the kitchen, with a circular fireplace lined with stone, and a rough set of birch wood table and chairs. Torches hung upon the surrounding walls, filling the room with shadowy light. The flickering fire reflected off her possessions, which consisted mostly of manuscripts on shelves and ornate swords of various sizes hanging from the walls.
Bello had asked Mythia if she would like to stay in her house, for the time being. Mythia was uncertain, thinking she would be better off sleeping somewhere alone in the woods, until she found out that Ventus was also a house guest of Bello's. The idea of sharing a room with a familiar friend brightened up her prospects considerably, so she took Bello up on the offer.
Mythia and Ventus prepared the kitchen table for supper, laying down smooth wooden plates beneath stale, old bread, the middle gutted out to be used as bowls. Bello stood over the iron pot hanging on top of the fire, with the mouthwatering scent of rich, rabbit stew wafting through the kitchen. A knock on the door made all three women pause and glance up from their work.
Bello gently balanced her ladle onto the pot, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked quickly across the long kitchen to open the door. Titus slid inside, quickly followed by a strikingly beautiful woman with pale blond hair, holding tightly onto his hand. Mythia grinned as she recognized Ustrina, the strange Rejicio viden who possessed the rare gift of seeing glimpses into the future. Following behind them dressed in all black, was a smiling, rounded man Mythia did not recognize, with straight gray hair streaked with white, small blue eyes behind a pair of silver pince-nez, and a soft expression.
Titus pulled Ustrina across the kitchen and let go of her hand, wrapping his arms around Mythia into a hug. He still wore the same look of concern as he pulled away to study his friend. “Bello,” he said, keeping his eyes on Mythia. “I think we need to put this one on a strict diet of ten square meals a day. One gust of wind and she'll be blown straight out of these mountains.”
Mythia smiled despite of herself as Bello laughed then turned to face Ustrina. “It's good to see you,” she said sincerely.
Ustrina smiled back at her. “You'll be strong again soon, Mythia. Your strength will surpass that of before.” Titus grinned proudly at Ustrina, wrapping his arm around her. He turned back toward Mythia.
“Has anyone told you?” He gave Ustrina a squeeze, her blazing blue eyes happier than Mythia had ever seen them. “We're married. Made it official last month.”
Mythia felt her face break into a wide grin. “That's wonderful news. Congratulations.” Titus and Ustrina looked at each other, their eyes both sharing something deeper than anyone around them could feel. Mythia's smile slightly faltered, as a pain clamped onto her heart, the thought of Regulus flooding inside of her again. She attempted feebly to push the prince out of her mind, but she felt as though his strong presence had already entered the room just from the mere thought of him.
“Sit,” Bello ordered. They all sat around the table; steaming rabbit stew ladled in the bread bowls, laid out on their places. Ventus sat down quietly at the head of the table, opposite from Bello. The man in black placed himself to Bello's right, across from Mythia who sat on Bello's left. Titus rested himself on her opposite side, with Ustrina across from him.
Bello motioned to the stranger. “I imagine you haven't met Pater, Mythia?”
Pater smiled pleasantly at Mythia, extending out a hand. She took his slightly pudgy hand across the table and bowed her head in greeting.
“It is nice to finally put a face to the name, my queen,” Pater said quietly, raising his eyebrows at her, his soft smile never faltering. Mythia wasn't sure how to respond, so she settled on smiling back. He pressed his palms together suddenly, and closed his eyes, as everyone followed suit. Mythia quickly did the same. They bowed their heads solemnly, the flickering of the candlelight upon the table casting moving shadows across their faces, making them appear pale and still like statues.
Pater spoke in a low tone, the vibrations of his deep voice hovering over the table. “Oh, blessed Spiritus of truth, thou who searches the heart and tries the inmost thoughts, I ask thee, my faults to my remembrance, and grant me light to see and find them out.” Mythia carefully peeked open one of her eyes, watching Pater from beneath her eyelashes, having never heard anyone speak in such a way before. She felt a strange peace settle around the table as he spoke, like the peace she had the power to bring with the gift of the unicorn, but somehow different.
Pater continued, the waves of his voice reverberating. “Strengthen us also with courage to confess our faults truly, hiding nothing, excusing nothing, keeping back nothing in our hearts, that we may, of thy mercy, obtain pardon and entire absolution. In your name... et in nomine tuo.”
The words rang around the table. “Et in nomine tuo.” A chill ran down Mythia's spine.
A brief moment of silence was broken by the sounds of spoons scraping against the bottom of the bread bowls.
“Mythia,” Bello turned toward her, swallowing her stew. “I'd like to head out for the city first thing tomorrow morning; I don't believe there is any point in waiting. We are closest to the city of Monoceros, and given its natural tendency to remain more peaceful than the others, I decided it would be the best city for you to visit. If you are comfortable with it, we will leave at first light.”
Mythia gulped her steaming stew, the heavy rich liquid pouring down into her stomach and filling her belly far more satisfyingly than anything she had eaten all summer. “That's fine. The sooner we leave, the better. I need to know what's going on out there.”
An unpleasant look crossed over Titus's face. “You’re taking her to Monoceros? But that's suicide.”
Bello shot him a warning glare. “She wants to see what’s changed, Titus. She has the right to know.”
“Ha! Easy for you to say, Bello! It’s her blood they want, not yours,” Titus replied angrily, slamm
ing his spoon down upon the table.
“Mind your place, Titus,” Bello warned. “Do not forget who you pay allegiance to since joining the Rejicio army.”
Titus glowered at her, picked up his spoon, then plopped it back into his stew sending bits of rabbit all over the table. “Fine. But I’m going with her. To keep her safe.”
“As will I,” a strong voice spoke from the opposite end of the table. Mythia was surprised to hear Ventus speak with such confidence, she was used to her sounding small and timid. Ventus raised her blond eyebrows at Titus, the two of them quickly exchanging nods.
“I believe I could be of some use in Monoceros,” Pater interjected. “If you don't mind an old man tagging along.” He smiled warmly from above his pince-nez.
Bello looked around her table curiously. “I suppose that shouldn't be a problem. The more witnesses, the better.” She smirked.
“Honestly, I could manage on my own-” Mythia began, but everyone started speaking at once.
“Absolutely not-”
“Really, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into-”
“No way, Mythia-”
Mythia raised her hand and closed her eyes, a smile spreading across her face. She opened her eyes and peered over at Ustrina who was remaining unusually quiet. “What do you think, Ustrina? Would it be wise to bring them all along?”
Ustrina's shockingly blue irises glowed brighter than the candlelight. The tips of her lips pulled up slowly. “I shall remain here, but you must bring along your companions, for you alone are not enough.”
Mythia nodded her head and grinned at everyone seated around the table. “Okay. We'll all go.”
“It's settled then,” Bello stated. “We shall meet at the stables tomorrow at first light. Mythia...” she peered over at the queen, her gray eyes widening. “Eat. You look like an emaciated twig.” Titus snorted, as Mythia felt her face flush scarlet and buried it deep into her bowl of stew.
Mythia: and the Awakened Beast Page 4
