Mythia: and the Awakened Beast

by Margie Mandell

  “What about the soldiers? We could help guard the land,” Ventus interjected.

  Bello shook her head. “The king is far too precarious right now for us to have our soldiers scattered around the kingdom. That project will have to wait. We need as many soldiers training here as possible.”

  Mythia cleared her throat. “I'd like to be one of them.” Ventus grinned at Mythia from behind her goblet.

  Bello raised her eyebrows high, then turned back to the pot to scoop the cooked eggs out into a bowl. She spun around and walked to the table, plopping the bowl down with a thud. She breathed in and looked closely at Mythia. “I'm not sure that would be wise.”

  Mythia frowned. “I want to learn how to defend myself, properly. I'm the one the king's after. I’m the one everyone in the kingdom of Terra wants dead. I know how to use my magic, but I don’t know anything about battle.”

  Bello sighed and sat down at the head of the table. She scooped out helpings of steaming eggs on each of their plates. “I will have to speak with the head trainer of the newly enlisted and see if he will take you.” She leaned slightly over to eye the sheath hanging from Mythia's belt beneath the table. “Are you any good with it?”

  Mythia traced the dragon etched scabbard with her hand. An emptiness threatened to engulf her. “My father had given me some lessons, before he gave me the sword. I haven't actually used it yet.”

  An odd look crossed Bello's face. “I've only ever seen that design once in all of my life...”

  “From where?” Mythia asked, curiously.

  “My own father.” Bello swallowed. “Eat up. We need to get going.”

  The three of them finished their eggs quickly. Bello cleaned up after them, as the other two women walked out of the house and into the cavernous city. Warm, flickering lights began popping up from within the windows, from the houses on the ground floor all the way to the highest levels. Mythia peered above her; the glowing square windows looking almost like the stars that were blocked by the mountain itself.

  Bello joined them shortly after. They walked down through the waking city to the stables by the entrance of the cave. Mythia ran over to Noctis the minute they opened the gate. She hugged him around the neck, as he nuzzled into her. She stared into his reflective eyes, stroking his hair.

  “Made a friend, have you?” a gruff, familiar voice spoke suddenly from behind Mythia. She turned around to find a smiling Titus, a large pack swung across his muscular shoulder, still in his long chainmail and black tunic. She couldn't help but grin back at him, his optimism was always infectious. Pater hobbled into the stable as well, quickly finding a short brown horse. He gave him a quick pat before climbing on. Mythia and the rest hopped onto their steeds.

  They headed out of the mountain opening and into the dusky, shivery morning. Heavy clouds loomed ominously from the east as Bello had warned, and a grayness overtook the morning dew. Vultures circled around the sky above their unseen prey. Mythia shivered slightly in the autumn chill, as the sound of a hawk broke through the crisp, quiet air.

  ◆◆◆

  The six knights inched their horses through the Borra Forest, peering anxiously at the grassy ground beneath their feet.

  “The trail heads out of the trees here!” Lord Rowan announced, as the rest of the knights followed him swiftly between the birch woods and into an opening, to reveal a gray early morning sky hovering over two, towering mountains at the end of the northern plains. Excitement flooded through them as they could hardly believe their luck in finding what appeared to be the queen’s trail, led by a single steed. Their eyes traced the trail of hoof prints carefully, their heads all slowly emerging upwards as they realized the same thing at the same time.

  “They lead into the Borealis Mountains,” Lord Ulric realized in a harsh whisper. He looked over at his crew. “Some of you need to stay here with the horses, they won't make it easily up the trail.”

  “I'll do it,” Lord Alistair, the youngest of the old knights responded, his pale hair glistening in the opal sunrise.

  “Carac, stay with Alistair. Everyone else on me,” Lord Ulric ordered, slipping off from his brown horse. The rest of the knights followed him, each finding a tree at the end of the woods to tether their horses to. Ulric nodded to Carac and Alistair before heading north across the rippling grass with everyone else. Within a matter of minutes, they reached the rocky trail between the two giant mountains.

  “There are scuff marks here, and here,” Lord Rowan pointed out. “Looks like she tried to bring her horse this way... Didn't work out too well though.” Rowan jogged deeper into the crevice of the mountains, his light blue cloak flapping behind him as he hopped from one spot to another with the energy of a much younger man, hunting for his prey. Ulric silently congratulated himself for choosing such an avid and talented hunter for their mission. “She must've given up around here before turning the corner.”

  The four knights quickly followed him around the mountain for some time, before stopping at a huge, dark opening. Lord Rowan threw his arm out to stop the others.

  “What is this?” a bald, lanky knight asked slowly.

  Lord Ulric considered it for a moment. “Rowan, come with me. Everyone else stay behind and stand guard. Don't let yourselves be seen.”

  Ulric and Rowan carefully walked into the gaping hole before their eyes adjusted to the dark enough to realize what it was they were looking at.

  “Is this...?” Rowan whispered carefully. Ulric's eyes widened as they stared hungrily into the scene above. Long wooden houses spotted the entirety of the enormous cave, filling it from top to bottom, layers upon layers of bridges made from rope hanging higher and higher above their heads.

  “The Rejicio?” Ulric finished Rowan's question. He looked suddenly at his companion. “Quick, remove your cloak.” They both undid the silver fastening beneath their chins and wadded their light blue cloaks up into a tight ball, stuffing them inside of their packs.

  Rowan motioned for Ulric to keep going. They walked quietly into the dark hidden city, careful not to make noise, not wanting to wake whoever may have dwelled inside. They walked deep into the cave, darkness surrounding them except for the dotted squares of flickering light from the windows in the long, rectangular homes. Ulric spotted another, small opening on the wall opposite from them that was lined with flaming torches. He motioned for Rowan to follow him there.

  They walked through the opening, which led them to a long hall. Ulric kept glancing anxiously behind them, expecting to be bombarded any moment by a guard. The fact that they hadn’t seen anyone yet was unsettling. They finally reached the opposite end, and found themselves standing on a remarkably high ledge, peering down at something that made Ulric's heart leap into his throat.

  “It can't be,” Rowan whispered. His face fell, his eyes widened with horror at the sight of a thousand soldiers glistening in the dark, their chainmail and swords reflecting off the flickering light from the torch-lined cavern walls. They all stood in clean, organized rows, grouped out into sections with individual leaders, who paced in front of them yelling commands.

  A look of utter astonishment and fear filled Ulric's cold, brown eyes. “They've built an army.”

  “How could we not have known how massive their numbers have grown, Ulric?” Rowan whispered shakily, turning to face his fellow knight.

  Ulric continued to stare at the army below. “We need to report this to the king. Immediately. An army of a thousand men is far more concerning than a runaway queen.”

  ◆◆◆

  Mythia looked curiously over at Pater, as their horses galloped freely east, through the wide field of long, rippling grass. She moved slightly closer to him.

  He looked at her, noticing suddenly that she was watching him, and smiled. “How are you faring, Queen Mythia?”

  Mythia's lips pulled up into a sideways smile at the title. “Please, just call me Mythia.” Pater nodded his head, as Mythia's face turned thoughtful. The thick, dark clouds loomed clo
ser, a harsher wind pushing against them the farther east they traveled. Mythia’s long chestnut hair flew up behind her head like ribbons. “I was wondering... What was it you said last night at supper? I had never heard anything like it before.”

  Pater cleared his throat. “Ah, I'm not surprised. Only the Rejicio hold the tradition of saying a votum before their meals. It is a way we connect to the Spiritus, to thank him, and honor him.”

  “Him?” Mythia mused.

  “Not as in male, specifically. But he as in all. A conjunction of the two genders, a generalization, as the Spiritus is neither male nor female, we generalize him with a he.”

  Mythia nodded her head. “I understand. But the... votum... it made me feel like... like peace was shrouding between us all when you spoke the words. Was that magic?”

  Pater's eyebrows furrowed slightly, his body bouncing with the galloping of his horse. “It is deeper than that. Something even more ancient, a connection we all have to the Spiritus, even those whose gifts have not yet awakened.”

  The wind blew roughly, goosebumps popped up all over Mythia’s skin. She had never heard about votums before, not even from her all-knowing phoenix friend, the Doctrine. “Are you a phoenix?” she asked, curiously, as phoenixes were known for their impeccable knowledge.

  Pater grinned at her; his small, dark blue eyes full of light behind the circular glass in his pince-nez. “I'm a Rejicio. My mark bears only a partial resemblance to my abilities. But I do not have the mark of the phoenix. I am a unicorn actually, bred and raised in Monoceros, which is why I have come to accompany you on this trip. There are people there who may need to see me.”

  Pater and Mythia had fallen slightly behind from the rest of their party. Titus, Bello, and Ventus galloped ahead of them, seemingly unaware that their two friends were lagging behind, but Mythia didn't mind. She needed conversation to distract her from the impending situation at hand. Worry began to creep its way through the silence, as the thought of what was to come slipped back into her mind.

  She shook her head and grasped at a question to continue their conversation. “Why do they need to see you?”

  The air turned cooler as rainclouds streamed their way over the sun, a giant shadow moving stealthily across the fields. Wind rustled ominously through the tall grass, their steeds galloping relentlessly on.

  Pater did not appear surprised or even annoyed by her questions. “Do you understand what was said in the votum last night?” Mythia shook her head. “I asked the Spiritus to show us our faults, and to help us find forgiveness with him and within ourselves. Some people of Monoceros will be seeking forgiveness to lessen their burdens of guilt. I help them with that.”

  A crease formed on Mythia's forehead, as she tried to understand the concept of self-forgiveness. She sighed deeply to herself. She looked up to see Titus had slowed his pace, his body twisted around, watching Mythia. She quickly caught up to him, Pater easily matching their speed.

  “All right there, Mythia?” Titus asked with a grin. Mythia nodded her head but did not speak. She pulled the reins and pushed her horse to go faster, passing even Bello and Ventus. She looked ahead to the east, the mountains of Monoceros looming ever so nearer.

  They reached the path to the city just as the rain began to fall in a light rhythm of droplets, spotting their clothing with small, dark circles. The five travelers paused for just a moment before pushing their steeds to step onto the path that lead up the mountains to Monoceros. The horses trotted at a steady pace, their view changing the higher they wound up the mountain. They could now see the tops of the trees; hues of orange, yellow, and reds blending beneath the darkening late morning skies swirling with thick gray clouds. Mythia felt the now familiar popping within her ears as they elevated. She shivered in the cold, wet winds.

  The entrance of the city was visible before the city itself, but it had changed. Where there was once a guarded wooden gate, jutting out from the side of the mountain onto the top of the windy path, there was now just a heap of broken rock, the wooden gate hanging off the hinge at a severe angle. The cold breeze blew the broken gate, its ominous creaking the only sound they could hear. The otherwise silence was eerie and strange. A shiver ran through Mythia, she wrapped her arms around herself. There was no guard to question them, like there was last time Mythia visited this city, so the five of them dismounted from their horses, and cautiously pulled them up to the top of the mountain.

  Rain turned into ice as it splattered like tiny shards of glass upon the city of Monoceros, which lay broken and splintered beneath a dark gray sky. Mythia slowly dropped the reins of her horse, taking careful steps into what was once a place of astonishing beauty, the most peaceful in the kingdom. Her mouth became dry, as she held her breath and watched almost as though in slow motion from a distance, bounty hunters and guards pacing back and forth between the ruins as the dark clouds swirled above them, casting down frozen rain. Boulders blocked much of the paths, providing them with easy coverage as they viewed the city. The once lovely cobblestone upended and cracked, was now covered in dirt and weeds. There were no more smiling citizens going about their way, only windows that were barred off by wood hammered across them, broken doors blocked by giant rocks, shutters shut tight. Mossy covered houses had been destroyed by the earthquakes the awakened powers had caused- roofs concaved in from fallen pine trees. The city that once held such beauty and peace was no longer.

  Mythia swallowed, walking ahead of her companions, her legs shaking with each step. Her chestnut hair whipped across her face with a gust of wind. A strong hand landed on her shoulder. She turned around to see Titus, all traces of his smile wiped completely off his handsome face. His brown eyes mirrored what Mythia was feeling inside. A wrenching, debilitating, guilt.

  “I thought finding the scrolls was supposed to help us bring peace to the kingdom, not destruction,” Mythia whispered shakily. Titus squeezed her shoulder.

  Bello watched Mythia carefully, her gray eyes appearing bright in the swirling icy rain.

  Pater held out his palm to feel the ice falling from the sky. “Come. I know a place we can go for the time being.” The four of them followed Pater, carefully avoiding the center square where the guards and bounty hunters paced relentlessly, occasionally throwing rocks into empty house windows, and snickering as whatever glass was left shattered loudly in the silent city. They sneaked carefully behind a house so broken that the roof had completely collapsed to the floor in a pile of rubble, their footsteps masked by the sound of tapping ice. Titus and Ventus held their swords out in front of them, their silver chainmail glistening amongst the gray, peering around crumbling walls to make sure their paths were clear.

  Pater led them to a slightly larger wooden house with a flower garden in the front. Only the dirt around it had suffered slightly from the cracking earth, but the house was unscathed. They all stood huddled together against the frozen rain in front of the thin door as Pater knocked.

  The doorknob wiggled for a moment before the door opened slightly, a pair of dark, small blue eyes peered suspiciously from between the crack. They slowly grew wider as they took in the five travelers, landing lastly upon Mythia, as the eyes widened to their full capacity. Then they turned back to stare at Pater, whose palm was keeping the door open.

  “What is this, Pater?” the owner of the eyes asked in a deep, masculine voice.

  Pater peered solemnly at the man. “We need shelter for only a short time, and then we will be on our way. I bring only friends, Hadrian.” Hadrian glanced cautiously again at Mythia, then carefully opened the door the rest of the way.

  The small group walked in, warmth gliding over them like a hot bath from the stove fire in the kitchen. The home was very quaint; colorfully painted portraits hung on the pine wood walls, a large circular table sat in the center of the room with a bowl of apples and nuts sitting on top of the smooth surface.

  Hadrian kept glancing nervously at Mythia as he put a pot of water over the crackling fire to boil.
He set about gathering mugs, his hands shaking. Ventus watched him closely for a moment before sheathing her sword and walking over to help him. She lifted the mugs from his shaky hands. Titus stood by the door, constantly glancing through the window, his sword at the ready.

  Pater walked up to Hadrian and clapped him on the back. “I understand how our presence here must be making you feel, but you must not be frightened. The time has come to set things right. To fix the errors of our ways.”

  Hadrian glanced quickly over at Mythia, who stood awkwardly between Titus and Bello. “You have no idea, Pater.” He looked around the kitchen, at all the strangers he had let into the house. “None of you have any idea.” He swallowed as his eyes landed on a painted portrait of himself standing next to a pretty woman with curly dark hair and slanted brown eyes.

  “How is she?” Pater asked, noticing where Hadrian’s eyes landed.

  Hadrian then peered toward a closed door at the end of the kitchen. “Physically, she is healing. But mentally... I'm afraid Alys will never be the same. She still has yet to utter a coherent word or form an expression. I often wonder if she would of been better off dead.” Tears welled up in his deep blue eyes, he turned quickly away to gather the pot that now held boiling water.

  Pater sighed. “I would like to see her.”

  Mythia watched the two carefully. Her eyes flitted over to Ventus who continued helping with the tea, placing the steaming mugs onto the table, her old serving habits taking over. Bello's gray eyes remained steady as she stood quietly in the corner, observing the scene around her. She suddenly walked across the floor and sat at the round table, so Mythia did the same. Titus finally seemed to decide they hadn’t been followed and sheathed his sword to sit down for a cup of tea as well. Everyone drank, welcoming the warm liquids into their bodies, still shivering slightly from journeying through the frozen rain.