A Court of Muses

by Sarina Dorie

  Errol knew minor enchantments for injuries. He used one to numb the pain, but he didn’t see any relief on Semmy’s face. Perhaps he was too far in shock for that to help.

  Errol stroked the blood away from his friend’s eyes. “We’ll get you out of this. Don’t fret.”

  “Leave that man, Lieutenant,” the general said.

  Errol clasped Semmy’s hand. “This man needs medical assistance.”

  General Hereweald shook his head at Errol. “You are young and naive. You haven’t seen true battle. These are dead men. Those who survive will probably die from madness. The Jabberwock does that to men.”

  Errol didn’t appreciate the general’s patronizing tone. He stood. “I have served with these soldiers. Many of them are my friends. I cannot allow them to slowly bleed to death on a battlefield. It isn’t honorable or just.” He looked at the other soldiers standing assembled, waiting for the king to finish mourning his children. He didn’t understand why they hadn’t joined him looking for their friends.

  “You will leave these men. That is an order.” Captain Kasen marched over, though not so close that he soiled his boots.

  Errol had often thought Captain Kasen and General Hereweald were heartless idiots. This only cemented it in his mind.

  “I serve my king and kingdom. These men are of my kingdom. I will not leave them. We are not barbarians like the Raven Court.”

  Kasen’s eyes narrowed. The general looked as though he were about to respond, but his eyes went wide, and he closed his mouth. Kasen bowed. Errol turned and found the king standing just behind him.

  King Viridios gazed coolly at Kasen and Hereweald. “Captain Errol is correct. We are not barbarians.”

  “Ahem,” General Hereweald said. “It’s Lieutenant Errol.”

  “Not anymore.” The king grinned. His teeth looked as lethal as blades. “I hereby promote him to the rank of captain for his heroic deed in saving my life during battle. He will be granted a reward for his good conduct and for his loyalty to king and kingdom.”

  Errol turned to the king, pleading his case. “Please, Your Highness. I beg of you to send for the medics before this man dies. If that is my only reward for my conduct, it would be more than sufficient.”

  “That isn’t a reward. It is simply practical and good sense. We cannot have our enemies finding the dying, only to resuscitate them to torture information out of them.” The king slapped Errol on the back. “As you said, we will not leave our own people to die amongst our enemies.”

  That hadn’t been Errol’s rationale, but he didn’t care what the king’s reasoning was so long as Semmy would be safe. The king had done him a favor, though it benefited him to do so as well.

  King Viridios gestured to the general. “Dispatch a messenger to send for the medics.” He turned to Errol. “There is no one I trust more as my personal guard. You will remain with me as we storm the Raven Queen’s castle. My Jabberwock isn’t yet done for the day.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  An Eye for an Eye and a Wing for a Wing

  The battle was largely conducted from afar by the king. He sent the Jabberwock into the Raven Queen’s castle. The Raven Court, in turn, sent out their shadow goblins and warriors. The king responded with his shadow goblins and soldiers. Errol guarded the king where he watched at a distance with his unit of men. He supposed he should have been grateful that he was kept from battle—and that the king had granted his request to provide medical assistance to those alive—but all Errol could think about was Semmy and whether he would be all right.

  Eventually the Raven Queen sent a message to the king by way of one of his men. Errol suspected he shouldn’t read over the king’s shoulder, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the blood-red script.

  Dearest Viridios,

  I have captured and contained your Jabberwock. Your men are outnumbered. Rather than slaughtering them, I have decided to be merciful and enchant the entire castle into slumber. Should you persist and send in more troops, I will drain the magic from each of your men myself and crush any who should enter my domain. I will release your Jabberwock and allow the creature to devour your own troops, whether that is navy, air navy, or cavalry.

  But I will admit, the idea of having another wing built just to house your Jabberwock does not appeal to me. And though I know of another court with access to a vorpal sword to slay the creature instead, the time and effort I must go through in order to obtain such a weapon sounds tiresome.

  Let us instead negotiate.

  I understand why you have waged this war upon my court, but I assure you it wasn’t I who gave the orders to attack your kin. It was my granddaughter’s idea, who acted without consulting me after a little bird told her where the king of the Silver Court would be attending a theatrical performance in the Morty Realm. Not realizing I would be displeased, my granddaughter acted as general to my army and attacked. It is unfortunate the younger generations behave so rashly and do not think of the repercussions as you and I would.

  Two of your children have died. You require a tithe. Accept two of my own kin as retribution for what has been done.

  Yours,

  Queen Morgaine Le Fay, Queen of Pain and Pleasure, Ruler over Ravens of Day and Night

  “Is it true?” the king demanded of the messenger. “She has the Jabberwock? And our troops?”

  The messenger nodded.

  The king swore. He wrote a response, emphasizing that his son and daughter died, therefore he required her son and daughter.

  The messenger took the note with shaking hands. He returned again, carrying a contract with the Raven Queen’s signature, detailing the release of the hostages and the next of kin she would pay King Viridios. From the way the paper glittered, Errol surmised it was a magical contract.

  The king signed it with his own blood. He bade the general send someone to fetch irons for the prisoners that soon would be arriving.

  The queen sent out the Jabberwock first. The sky had darkened, and the creature was a swirling mass of gloom against the night sky. Smoldering red eyes as brilliant as the ruby on the king’s finger glowed from within that vaporous mass of terror.

  King Viridios raised his ringed hand to the creature and gestured toward its cage. The creature obeyed like a faithful hound.

  The queen sent out his remaining troops next. Some of the men carried their wounded companions over their shoulders or dragged them. Out of the hundreds they had sent in, one hundred soldiers remained. Errol didn’t see Captain Kasen among the men.

  “I trust no one was left alive.” The king arched an eyebrow at one of the remaining major generals. “No one has been left for the Raven Queen to torture our military secrets out of?”

  “No one, Your Majesty.” The major general bowed, tottering unsteadily. The man was covered in blood. It was hard to say how much of it was his own. “I ensured no man was left alive in the castle.”

  A chill settled over Errol as the officer said the words, not so much like he had ensured all the living were rescued, but instead that anyone they couldn’t carry with them were now dead.

  The king nodded.

  The irons were ready when the two prisoners from the Raven Court arrived.

  A pale mist gathered in the distance, and out of it two figures emerged, a man and a woman. One of the guards shifted in front of the king in a defensive stance. Errol assumed these had to be the Raven Queen’s own son and daughter.

  General Hereweald sent a unit of men to clamp shackles over the wrists and ankles of the Fae tithes.

  Both resembled what Errol imagined the Raven Queen looked like, tall and sinuous with hawkish noses. They wore attire made of black feathers and possessed wings that could have belonged to giant ravens. The young man’s head was shaved on one side, protective blue runes tattooed on his skull. More extended down his neck and under his feathered collar and metal breast plate. Another layer of runes covered the blue ones, these painted with re
cent blood.

  The woman’s bodice was made of elaborate patterns of iridescent metal that could have been beetle shells. The side of her face was covered in blue runes that extended into her hairline.

  The power of these protective runes was gone.

  The first deed the king did was to drain them of their magic. Not completely, for no Fae could live without magic. It was as essential as a soul. Next, iron manacles were clamped around their wrists, ankles, and collars. Each were shoved into their own caged cart, where they were confined during the journey back to the castle of the Silver Court.

  The king returned home with his bodyguards while the rest of his troops traveled by foot the long way back. One advantage was that as soon as Errol returned home, a change of guard occurred, and Errol was given a break.

  He went straight to the infirmary to see Semmy. His friend lay on a cot. He was cleaned up and so still, Errol couldn’t tell whether he was dead. Errol knelt by his side and gently prodded his wrist. There was a heartbeat.

  “What are you doing with my patient?” Dr. Jong asked.

  Errol recognized the physician from the time Helga had bribed him with whiskey. He was completely sober on this occasion.

  Errol nodded to Semmy. “I was just checking to see if my friend was alive.”

  “Just barely.” Dr. Jong eyed Errol’s bloodstained uniform. “What about you? Are you injured?”

  “No.” Errol looked around the infirmary. There were only ten men in there, the ones from the battlefield around the carriage. The ones who had been injured in the castle apparently were still on their way back by foot. “There will be more coming. Will you have enough beds?”

  Dr. Jong nodded to the rows of beds. “The infirmary is expandable. How many will require medical attention?”

  Errol thought back to how many of the injured he’d seen being carried. Then, of course, there were those doing the carrying. Many of them had been hurt as well, though it might not have been life-threatening.

  “Fifty at least,” Errol guessed. “But it could be as many as a hundred.”

  Dr. Jong grunted. “Any of these lads you can get out and get home before the next batch arrive would free up more beds. And this lot will rest easier not having to listen to us saw off limbs.”

  Errol fetched Alma from the kitchen, who hadn’t yet heard the state her husband was in. He forgot about his bloody attire, and she screamed when she saw him. The other kitchen maids stared in horror.

  He held up his hands, trying to calm her. “It’s all right. I’m not injured. This isn’t my blood.”

  “Whose blood is it, then?” Her disgusted expression turned to terror. “Semmy? Where’s my husband? Was he in the battle?”

  “He’s alive. He’s in the infirmary. I need your help bringing him home.”

  “Why? What happened?” Tears filled her eyes.

  “Calm down. I told you he’s alive. He’ll be fine after he gets some rest.” He hoped so, anyway. “I made sure he was all right before I left him.”

  Alma threw herself into his arms, ignoring the dried blood. “I’m so lucky I have you in my life looking out for me and Semmy.”

  “We’re family. Family takes care of each other,” he said.

  He had been prepared to defy his superiors’ orders and be court-martialed if it came to that.

  Alma requested permission to leave work early from the head cook and joined Errol in bringing Semmy back to the cottage they shared beyond the castle’s walls. After that work was finished, Errol decided he was too exhausted to carry one more person. But he understood the men in the infirmary needed to be moved, and there was no one else available to do it. He could have ordered his company—or his new battalion—to assist him, but those men were young and shocked, too badly in need of rest to be of much use. It was Errol’s duty as their supervisor to protect them and ensure they got rest. He borrowed a wheelbarrow from the gardener and carted each of the men to their rooms.

  Only with that done did he allow himself to rest.

  The next day, he was surprised to learn he would be summoned to attend a ceremony before the entire Silver Court—not for duty to guard the king—but as one of the men to be publicly recognized. He had worked all his life serving his king and kingdom. It was an honor and a privilege to be given a reward.

  Yet Errol had also learned over the years, his silver hair brought both good fortune and bad. To be openly shown favor by the king would bring him both friends and foes. Captain Manchester hadn’t liked him until he’d met Alma and realized Errol wasn’t some privileged noble’s son. Captain Kasen had never grown to like him. Four of Errol’s captains were now dead.

  He didn’t know if this ceremony and the award that came with it would end up being a blessing or a curse.

  * * *

  Alma wanted to witness the ceremony herself, but she was stuck working in the kitchen. A week’s notice for an event was hardly enough time for the castle staff to prepare. There was to be a giant feast after the ceremony. The king had invited his family as well as his soldiers to dine in the great hall. It was an honor.

  “It looks like Semmy and I will finally get to taste your cooking off of gold plates instead of getting the dregs,” Errol had teased his sister that morning as he walked with her and Semmy from their cottage to the kitchen.

  Semmy managed the journey with crutches. He was better off than some of the men. But Errol noticed the dark circles around his eyes, and Alma had confided in Errol that her husband woke up screaming at night, seized by night terrors of the Jabberwock. Errol didn’t know how many of Semmy’s wounds were from the Raven Court and how many were from the Jabberwock.

  “I bet the king will serve you off of a lead plate because he knows how much food you’ve been pinching from the kitchen over the years,” Semmy teased him.

  Errol slapped his friend on the back. “If that’s the case, you’ll be getting a cold-iron plate.”

  He couldn’t have been happier.

  Naturally, his joy couldn’t last. Errol was just relieved his sister wasn’t able to attend the celebration later.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Joys and Pains of Public Executions

  The ceremony was held in the public square for the entirety of those who lived outside the castle and within the walls of the city to witness. The extended family of the Silver Court was assembled, their attire not quite as flamboyant as when Errol had witnessed them in attendance during the salon, but their finery was excessive all the same.

  Cavalry who had survived the battle were stationed underneath the stands where the royal family sat, which overlooked the square. More guards were stationed throughout the crowd and among the king and queen and their children’s booths, to ensure their safety, lest the Raven Court use this opportunity to send assassins. Many of the guards were glamoured invisible, though some were not, as General Hereweald thought it would do better for the public to see the presence of the royal guard to keep order.

  Errol wore his new dress uniform with the rank of captain. He stood beside Captain Helga, filling the void where Captain Kasen would have been, his company behind him. Semmy stood with what remained of his unit of men who had survived the battle. There were four from his company left.

  The inhabitants of the village crowded into the town square and out into the streets beyond. It was a place in which many celebrations had occurred, and where executions had been performed in the past, though Errol never had much time to attend either.

  Helga had unglamoured her wings, and they blazed brilliantly behind her. Several other officers wore wings, though none shone as brilliantly as hers. It took all Errol’s will not to turn his head and stare.

  The king gave a speech about honor and restoring justice to the kingdom after the deaths of his beloved children. He glowed like a mythological angel—but without wings. He was beautiful and inspiring, Errol hanging on his every word during the ceremony, though later he couldn
’t remember more than a phrase here or there.

  Finally he called Errol forth. Errol stepped up to the dais, aware of every set of eyes fixed on him as he knelt before the king.

  “This young man saved my life during battle. For his service to king and kingdom, for his bravery and courage, I award Captain Errol this medallion.” King Viridios placed a blue ribbon with an attached silver medal around Errol’s neck.

  Errol suspected he knew what a pig at the fair felt like. Everyone gawked at him. The villagers squinted at his hair, and he heard one child ask his mother, “Is he an old man? I can’t tell from here.”

  Errol hoped people thought his silver hair was due to age, not that he was being awarded because he was a privileged aristocrat. He’d worked hard all his life. He wondered whether he should start glamouring his hair the same way Helga did her wings.

  The royal family and their kin looked down on him from their stands above the crowd, clapping politely and looking bored. Queen Anwynn glared at him as though he were unworthy of the honor.

  His men clapped from below the dais. Some of the troops whooped and hollered, Semmy among them.

  “No one deserves that honor more!” Semmy shouted over the roar of enthusiasm.

  Errol rose to leave, but the king placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

  “Not yet.” King Viridios gestured for his servants below.

  The crowd grew hushed now with anticipation. A group of footmen carried two giant packages draped in white fabric up to the dais. Errol had no idea what to expect. If he were being given some kind of trophy, he couldn’t imagine why there would be two. There were two prisoners, but he knew the king planned on bringing them out last. Or at least that was what Helga had told him would happen. She had witnessed many ceremonies—in multiple Fae courts.

  The footmen slid the sheets away, revealing a set of raven wings, giant and ominous, the glossy feathers iridescent in the sunlight. Errol imagined they must have come from the bird that had dove to kill the king.