by Helen Church
Ellard knew he wasn’t the one who had created Ilsa, on that much his conscience was clear. “Your granddaughter?”
“The flesh of my flesh, yes,” she said with certainty.
They were in the forest now, and Ellard fell back a pace to allow Barey to lead them through the tree’s as she knew where Glutar was. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t think it. I feel it. In every part of my being I feel the truth of it. Though I do not know for a fact that Elmington was the one who stole my daughter, I believe he did. And I believe he kept her and then used her to craft Ilsa.”
Ellard frowned, “how is that possible?”
She shrugged, “Elmington is the type to explore Magick's in ways that I do not understand, nor want to. He toys with life and death, and confusing the natural order of things. There must be balance, and there must be order, but he doesn’t care for these things.”
He pondered the how of creating a child. Of course he knew how all mortals procreated, how he was meant to have fathered a child if his life had not been hijacked as it had been.
How could someone, even a Magick user and abuser, father a child on his behalf without his knowledge.
“Can you tell if I am unspent?”
Barey grinned, “yes Ellard.”
He blushed.
The Seer just shook her head, “it’s not in question in my mind Ellard. And yes, I can see it within you. Your purity is part of what makes you the good man you are. It may even be why you were chosen to be Ilsa’s father.”
He frowned. “Chosen,” he spat the word, “if I was chosen then there was planning and deception to put me in the position I’m in now.”
Barey was unperturbed by his sudden change in mood. “People can plot and plan all they like, but it may not have been an individual that chose you Ellard.”
“Then how?”
“Magick has its own will. Again I cannot prove anything, but I know the Magick's were bound against their will, and I know that even though they were bound, they were not powerless. Another theory is that Ilsa was created by the Magick's themselves.”
He regretted having asked her to voice her speculations, he didn’t feel equipped to comprehend the scope of these problems. “Is she my blood?”
“Most definitely.”
“Could someone have stolen my…ugh…”
She laughed, “your seed?”
He couldn’t remember having blushed so often as he had in the last hour, “yes.”
“Do you think that would be possible? I mean I think it is possible. But no Ellard, I don’t think that’s what happened. Ilsa is your daughter, but I don’t see that she is the flesh of your flesh. She is the blood of your blood though, the family resemblance is strong as well.”
“It is,” he agreed.
Barey shrugged, “at this point it doesn’t really matter who fathered her. But I am sure it was my Lessa that mothered her. She was born with the bird mark, which was of great interest to Elmington, as it was something new.”
Ellard remembered the young woman who had borne Ilsa, and tried to see common features that Barey shared, but his memories of that night were fuzzy at this point, and now that Barey’s skin was so different, he couldn’t even compare their coloring.
“Lessa had clear Magickal talents, and I tried to keep them secret, but I believe Elmington was watching us very closely, and he must have seen what she was capable of doing.”
“And what could she do? She was just a baby.”
“She could travel,” Barey said sadly. “She crawled, just as any baby does, and I’d turn around and see that she wasn’t where I’d left her, so I presumed she was just fast. But then one day I watched her. She wanted something shiny that had caught her attention, and she fussed because she couldn’t reach it up high on the shelf. In the next breath she was on the shelf with it, laughing.”
Ellard thought of Ilsa’s burning form of travel, and though it was different, it was still a form of travel.
“I knew in that instant that she was special, and that she would be of great interest to those that would want to study the phenomenon rather than let her be a normal baby. I began to form a plan to try to flee and go into hiding with her, but with the Magick’s trapped I couldn’t. It was just a few days later that she went missing.”
Ellard frowned, “I’m sorry. Could her father not have helped?”
“He died before she was born. He was a Seer as well.”
“I am sorry for your losses,” he said sincerely. They fell into an easy silence then, as they trekked through the forest in search of Glutar, who they found at the river that he had camped at with Ilsa.
The horse was skittish, and whinnied when he saw them, tossing his head in agitation as if he believed that they were responsible for causing all the stress and confusion of the last few days, and was telling them that no, he was not prepared to stand for it any longer.
Barey reached out her hands in a pacifying gesture, and made soothing sounds with her mouth as they gently approached the poor animal.
Ellard saw a few mild burns on Glutar’s hind quarters, but didn’t believe that he was harmed in any other way. After Barey’s soothing, the horse allowed Ellard to step closer and touch him too. “There now,” he rubbed between his eyes and actually kissed him, “good boy. You’ll get a feast once we’re home boy, I swear it.”
“He’s happy to see us,” Barey kissed the horse too.
“Think he can ride through to Bardon without stopping?”
“I think so,” she said. “And I think we should.”
And so they rode. Ellard didn’t want to push the horse to the point of exhaustion, but it was urgent that they reached Jocham and told him all that had happened. He was still desperate to search for Ilsa, but without the resources of the entire kingdom behind him, it would be a lot harder to do so.
They stopped only once on the ride, to allow Glutar to drink and to relieve themselves, and then they pushed on into the afternoon, and then the evening. As the darkness became absolute they could see the shape of Bardon, and Ellard had never felt so relieved.
Glutar was exhausted, and as soon as they reached the village that circled the castle walls, Ellard knocked on the door of the local blacksmith.
An elderly man recognized him at once, and dropped to his knees, “my Lord, you honor my home.”
“Rise man, I must ask you to urgently care for my horse, he is exhausted.”
“Of course Sir,” the elderly man stepped outside and took Glutar’s reigns.
“Many thanks, I’ll send someone to recover him tomorrow, and you’ll be compensated.”
The old man bowed again, “Sir.”
Ellard took Barey’s hand and pulled her into a run. He was saddle sore, as he knew she must be too, but they ran through the village as if the crows were still chasing them.
“Ellard, something is wrong.”
He looked at the Seer, and was startled to see that her hair was whitening. “No. Is it Elmington?”
She nodded, and suddenly staggered into a feeble jog, “he’s near, I can feel that he’s draining me.”
Ellard caught her as she stumbled, and they fell to the dirt. He cupped her head, and realized the scale of the problem they now faced. “Is he in the castle?”
She closed her eyes and immediately nodded, “it’s not safe Ellard, we have to leave.”
“But Jocham – “
“He has Jocham’s mind, he’s no good to us now.”
His heart lurched within his chest as he remembered the fate that befell his father, “if the King is unfit to rule then I am next in line.”
Barey opened her eyes, “will you challenge a King who is no more than a puppet in front of his loyal subjects?”
Ellard winced. She described treason.
The castle gates opened then, and the King’s guard were marching out of it. Ellard recognized their colors, and knew that they did not routinely patrol the village or leave the ground
s unless there was specific reason to do so.
He intuitively knew then, that they were coming to arrest or kill the both of them. “On your feet,” he told the Seer, giving her little physical choice as he took her beneath the arms and pulled her upright.
She swayed, but looked on in horror as the two dozen soldiers marched across the courtyard of the Castle and toward where they stood in the village.
“Can you get us away? Can you use the Magick’s?”
Seer Barey fainted, giving him his answer.
Ellard considered abandoning her for a moment, and fleeing on foot. The plan was not in any way a good one, and he would not leave Barey to the mercy of Elmington. Neither could he outrun two dozen well rested and trained soldiers.
He decided to lift Barey into his arms, and walk towards the soldiers. He was a crowned Prince of this Kingdom, he had every right to stand and walk through those doors, and he wouldn’t allow Elmington to take more of his family’s blood.
The soldiers halted him when they met on the path, though they didn’t draw swords. “Ellard-“
“You will address me as Your Royal Highness,” Ellard recognized these soldiers of course, but immediately wanted to re-establish his position. “Get out of my way, this woman needs urgent medical attention.”
“Under the orders of the King, I am placing you under arrest,” the soldier didn’t take any pleasure in his script, but he would not make eye contact with Ellard.
“For what crime?”
“For releasing the Magick’s of Carbom, and attacking it’s keeper.”
He laughed and stepped onward, ignoring them as if they were nothing to him, but really he felt a cold dread spreading through his flesh.
Of course Elmington had used Magick’s to get here first and claim the ear of the King.
The soldiers closed ranks around him and drew their swords, “we have been ordered to kill you if you resist My Lord. Please do not,” a different soldier spoke this time, and he did sound as if he genuinely didn’t want to obey.
“The Magick’s were loosed, this is true. But the snake at the side of the King right now is the one to be detained, not me. Do you all want to see Jocham fall as my father Danton once did?” Ellard spoke angrily. “You may have been given your orders from the King’s lips, but do you honestly believe it was his words?”
The soldiers didn’t speak, and he was glad to see that a couple of them looked at the ground uncomfortably.
“If you love your King then you will disobey him. Elmington needs to die before he makes Jocham fall upon his own sword.” Ellard took a step forward, Barey still limp in his arms, and he was sure for a moment that the soldiers and their swords wouldn’t move.
He took another step with false confidence, and contained his relieved sigh when the swords parted and so did the men. “Follow me,” he ordered.
14
Ellard wasn’t surprised to see that Elmington had seated his bony frame in the secondary throne seat. The one that actually belonged to Ellard himself, in order to further provoke him no doubt.
Jocham stared blankly up at the ceiling, and Ellard felt the first traces of real panic. How could he possibly break this enchantment.
Barey began to stir within his arms, and he was glad, he really needed help.
“Young master Ellard,” Elmington smiled his unnaturally wide and toothy smile. Clearly he was pleased he had trumped Ellard before he could warn the King.
Barey’s face was starting to wrinkle, and her eyes were aged when they finally opened and looked up at Ellard. “Kill him,” she whispered.
Ellard knew that was how to break the enchantment, perhaps the only way. He turned to one of the soldiers that had followed him into the throne room. “Take her to safety, and get more men,” he said quietly.
The soldier took Barey into his arms, and walked from the room, another stepped forward to take his place protecting Ellard’s back.
“You are under arrest Ellard,” Elmington said, still smiling his confident smile.
Ellard was filled with anger, “how dare you sit there and issue commands. You have no power here.”
“On the contrary I have all the power,” Elmington countered immediately, and he understood that he meant Magickal power as well as the power of the throne.
His anger was heating in his veins, and he wondered briefly if this was how Ilsa had felt as she’d burned.
As if hearing his thoughts, Elmington spoke. “Your daughter has fled, where is she?”
He shook his head, “far beyond your reach, snake.”
Elmington considered this for a moment, “yes, indeed she is. Curious.”
Ellard drew his sword and stepped closer to the throne, “stand. Release your hold on Jocham. I’m giving you this one chance to leave this room with your life intact.”
“I’ve given my life in service of this Kingdom, I will not be threatened,” Elmington said childishly. He seemed to suddenly realize that the guards were not containing Ellard, and were not stopping his approach.
Elmington did get to his feet, but he did not speak. Instead Jocham spoke for the first time since Ellard had entered the room.
“Grandson, stand down, and surrender,” Jocham spoke his words without inflection, and without removing his gaze from the ceiling.
“Jocham, look at me now and speak freely. If you are truly in possession of your own will, and your will is to have me stand down, then you will look at me and speak the words as my King, not his puppet!”
Jocham’s head lolled forward on his neck. His eyes, rather than move within their sockets seemed to stay frozen, his whole head lurched to one side unnaturally so that he could focus on Ellard. “Your crimes are many, son of my son.”
Ellard couldn’t believe that anybody would believe this was a natural speech. “Speak freely!” he demanded with a shout.
Suddenly the Courtier’s filed into the room from behind the throne. At the head of the crowd Vesta was frowning at Ellard, but also at the King’s guard at his back, and then with a gasp at Elmington by Jocham’s side.
“Elder Vesta, Jocham has been compromised by Elmington, his mind is not his own. Witness this for yourself.”
Jocham sneered, “no.”
Ellard wanted to believe that Jocham was still there, somewhere within himself, fighting to assert control once more, but he couldn’t pin all hopes on that. “Guards, seize Elmington,” he commanded.
The soldiers rushed forward, but Elmington threw them back with a wave of his hand before they could reach him. Ellard meant to follow them, but his feet seemed pinned to the floor, and he could not take a single step.
Elmington laughed at this, “scared little one?”
Ellard presumed that Elmington was the one responsible for freezing him in place, and then relaxing his hand around his sword, making it clatter to the floor.
His whole being was suddenly filled with an unreasonable calm, and he felt his facial features slacken out of their rage. He wanted to shout no, and to regain himself. Elmington must be taking his will as well as Jocham’s.
‘Be still,’ a chorus of voices spoke within him. In his confusion he still acknowledged that several voices, both male and female, adult and child were in this choir inside his mind. They were both loud and silent, but continually speaking calming and soothing words as he felt his panic recede.
His body felt limp and loose, though it was no longer under his control, and he felt his face create a smile before words spilled from his lips. Words that were not his own, nor was the voice. It was the chorus of voices, and it seemed to use his vocal chords to create their many voices all at once.
“We are freed by this one, whom you shall not harm.”
Elmington seemed frozen in place, and not pleased in the slightest.
Jocham spasmed in his seat, and Ellard thought he saw a real expression pass over his features, before the slackness suddenly returned.
“Release your power child,” the voices spoke again thr
ough Ellard.
Elmington remained unmoved, but nervously asked, “who speaks to me?”
Ellard felt his arms spread wide, and without any impetus his feet left the floor. “I am the one you defile, and the one you offend.”
The Seer’s lip trembled and Ellard was still able to feel triumph at this show of fear.
“I don’t…” Elmington cleared his throat and tried to reassert control of the situation by addressing the Courtier’s. “You heard it, he released the Magick's. He must be arrested.”
“Release your power,” the voices command again, though this time Ellard felt it was with more force.
Elmington shook his head, “I cannot.”
Ellard’s hands swept down towards Elmington’s form, which suddenly crumpled upon itself, and the old man screamed in agony as his body seemed to split open in many places.
Ellard was horrified, but perversely pleased at this outcome. He had no idea what had taken over his body, but he was thankful for it.
Jocham slumped within his seat, as if everything holding him in place was suddenly released, and he rolled forwards. Ellard wanted to rush to him, but couldn’t as he seemed to be stuck as a spectator to these events.
As the Courtier’s hurried to assist Jocham, Ellard’s form seemed to glide closer to Elmington.
The very frail looking old man looked up in awe, his cheek bleeding profusely. “Don’t kill me,” he pleaded.
“Death would be a mercy for you,” the voices said sweetly. “There will be no death from me, only the judgement I see fit.”
As he watched through his own eyes, Elmington cried out once more, as his form began to cave in upon itself.
Where there were eyes, there were now sunken sockets. Hair fell out, fingers gnarled into deformed knots, and limbs seemed to sag into floppy meat bags. Even his ears seemed to melt into non-existence.
Elmington was still living. After his screaming ceased, a pathetic mewling noise continued in its place as the Seer was now blind and deaf.
Ellard would have preferred death had been delivered to the monster that had murdered his father, but he would accept this form of justice in its place.
