by Greg Ricker
At the moment, she would have preferred the tea waiting in her room, a special blend that soothed all aches and stiffness of the joints. Thapsus Leaf. Made popular, mostly, by its strong ability to overthrow the worst of headaches. Fruit juices, or honey improved its bitterness. It could taste very good when a headache was more severe, but it was most definitely not a tea for parties, or friendly chat.
It was almost impossible to stay awake for longer than thirty minutes after the first cup.
"I wonder if you have ever tried thornberry tea," she saw the Queen already nodding her head, "with lemon," still nodding, "and blueberry juice?"
Then a spark of interest hit her eyes.
"That would have to be my favorite, your Highness." Kaylel lied.
"Blueberry juice." Yudora repeated. She looked stunned by the very idea, but not appalled by it. The look of shock was mostly related to her not having tried the blend. "I can not say that I have, child. That does sound exciting, though, I must say."
Apparently tea was an important subject to her.
"I will have the ingredients ready, and you can show me." Yudora smiled brightly. "I will be looking forward to that."
"I would love to, your Majesty." Kaylel had everything she needed in her bag already, but her powdered blends would never compare with the fresh fruit in the castle kitchen. She was looking forward to it, also.
Voices suddenly filled the hall, with marching feet, and bouncing armor to add to the pressure inside Kaylel's head. The sounds reflected off of the stone walls, with very little being absorbed by the many pictures and large tapestries. First, two guards rounded the corner, and then two more, with Danuel and Nerol between them, followed by another two.
Kaylel then felt very odd in her robe, indeed. Was it because of the King? Or Danuel? She told herself both.
The hall was just getting much too busy for her present attire, and for her pounding headache.
Danuel walked beside the King of Mynnorah with his hands locked behind his back. He only partly listened to Nerol as his eyes met Kaylel's. He looked sad, and very tired, but he still smiled at her.
Kaylel's eyes did not leave him, until he was out of sight.
"I see you are very important to Lord Talbarond, indeed, Lady Ferarve." Yudora observed, and Kaylel's attention was quickly drawn back to her.
Then came two female servants. One carried a steaming kettle on a padded tray. They did have water already boiling!
"I shall see you tomorrow during the council, then." Not a question, but an invitation from the Queen. Written in stone.
"Yes, your Highness." Kaylel curtsied again, as Yudora, her guards, and one of the servants, continued down the hall.
"Your room, my Lady?" Asked the Dwarf girl holding the tray.
"Yes, thank you." She hoped there would be no one else in her path.
Double diamonds, was the roll, and the game.
Deril Bahr sank his dagger deep into the oak table, and it caused the dice on its center to roll over.
Rolling the exact numbers he had failed to get the roll before.
His opponent began to roar with laughter, and stopped short when a small knife hit the skin of his throat. "I'm sorry. I did not mean..."
The red-haired thief then laughed, himself. He thought fear was by far more hilarious than losing at a game of dice.
Deril had lost everything he had.
Even in the castle of Mynnorah, he could not fight his desire to gamble. Even if he had to tie someone in the opposing seat, and even when he continuously lost. Although, lately, it seemed he was paying men to play against him. His luck was simply meant for things other than winning coins, but he took his chances, anyway.
Every day.
Deril slipped his knife back into his belt, and the man began to breathe again. At least Deril accepted his losses. He may have dealt with them poorly, but he did not slice a throat to get his losses back. He wanted to win it back, though.
Just once.
It was late, and many of the men had left for their rooms over an hour ago. With two beds in every room, the Guest House could hold ninety-six people in its forty-eight rooms, with six separate houses in the castle, in all. The main floor was a great room filled with many furnishings, like fine tables and chairs, lit dimly by a few burning oil lamps. Nearly fifty columns held up the floor above, and cast long, narrow shadows across the dark green carpet.
Deril made his way to the spiral staircase in the center of the room, and quickly disappeared.
His opponent waited until then, to take all the coins, and also the dagger from the table. His eye had been on the ruby encrusted handle since Deril offered it to the pot.
Staggering into his room, which he found pitch black and quiet, Deril closed the door, and dragged his feet to the nearest vacant bed. He kicked his boots off onto the hardwood floor, and laid down in his clothes.
Only seconds later, he was mumbling in his sleep. Nothing clear, at first, but that changed the longer he continued.
"...a lifetime's worth of coins to gamble away..." That was plainly heard, and he started laughing.
"Wake up, Bahr." Wade stepped up to the bed, his entrance unknown, but his presence was rudely revealed.
Deril sat up on the edge of his bed, quickly, a bit too quickly for his wobbling head. He drank far too much wine at the gambling table, but the Dwarf servants kept bringing it to him. His cup had never gone empty.
That was nice, for a change.
"Did you find out anything about this city?" Wade wanted to hear that Deril had found the Dwarf who hit him with the tomato. That would have pleased him.
Mostly, Deril had found that he could lose coins anywhere. "They have fine wine here."
He knew of Wade's interest in fine wines. Wade was quite proud of his collection in his cellar.
The big man was smiling, as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He opened it, and handed it to Deril.
"That is a list of wines made and sold only in Mynnorah." Said Wade. "I heard some guards talking about them, myself. There's four of them there, and I would like two of each."
He leaned closer to Deril and whispered. "I also hear they bloody check the men that leave the city, for those particular wines, among other items, but who would check the saddlebags of a Bowenn soldier leaving to fight a war?"
Deril shrugged his shoulders. "Not a problem. Anything else I can get you, sir?"
He did not sound as if he genuinely wanted to get him anything at all.
Wade chuckled. "Surely your ears have caught a hold of something."
He knew the man well.
"Indeed." Deril answered. "The men who attacked us are members of a rebellion called...the Advancement."
He hoped he said it right.
"I see." Wade remembered the stain on his fine shirt, and frowned. "I suppose that is a problem for the Dwarves to handle. Just keep your ears open to whether we may face a similar departure."
Deril nodded. "And another thing."
After exchanging the list of wines with a card in his own pocket, he handed it to Wade. "It's an invitation to dinner, from a Master Covary. I checked out his stable earlier, and he looks to be an extremely wealthy man."
"Bah." Wade handed the card back to the red-haired thief. "Probably some lonely old man who looks for any chance to show off his home."
"That's what I thought." Deril agreed. "Until I went there. Then I had a strange feeling I should attend."
Wade stared into his friend's eyes. He knew all about Deril's feelings. They were never wrong. He could trust those feelings as fearlessly as Deril lived by them. The thief could sense coin to be made, as if it were a Dy’Shin power he was born with. So long as he wasn’t the one making it. Deril had to rely on his cut from Mister Levin.
Or cutting throats.
"Then by all means, go." The big man insisted. "You should, at least, be given a fine meal for your time."
Deril tucked the card away. He planned on attending,
no matter what he was told. Being two places at once, had never been difficult for him.
"I had better return to my room before they send the whole army to look for me." Wade handed Deril a small bag of coins before he walked to the door. "Goodnight, Mister Bahr."
"Goodnight, Mister Levin, sir." It was hard for Deril to resist the temptation of scurrying off again to gamble away Wade's coins, but that would be a fatal mistake for him to make.
That is, until the day his luck changed.
Wade was beginning to change Deril’s view on the simple life of royalty. He liked the power, and respect he felt within the castle walls.
It was Wade’s leash and collar, he no longer cared for.
In Ryell, there was only one law, and that was to obey the Corasaohl. For now, that Corasaohl, was Skhoragg. He was not a Corasamon Lord, with Dy'Shan powers, but he did not need that title to rule his village. His strength and intelligence, made him a feared Gnoll, and fear, made him the wealthiest.
Skhoragg was the King of Ryell, and he had done so without magic.
He sat motionless, staring into the massive bonfire built on the circle below his great throne. It was carved from the wall of a short, and sheer cliff, with eight steps leading to it. The few that could approach him, could climb four of those steps, but no more. Nearly fifty tOrches on tall stands formed a large half-circle from his left to his right. Each was decorated with an animal skull, tail, and feathers. Outside of them, stood hundreds of Gnolls. All watching the ten females dance around the fire to the beat of deerskin drums. The audience members chanted a song.
It was a song of new beginnings, new hopes, and new blood to shed.
The drums stopped at the same time, as did the dancers, who struck their final coordinated poses perfectly. Only the crackling fire could be heard. Its glow made the dancers flicker in the light. They then bowed their heads to their lord, and hurried away, disappearing into the audience.
It was time for Skhoragg to speak.
"There is a reason for the theme I have chosen tonight." He began. "We have an important task ahead of us. It is a great and dangerous mission. One that could bring us a better way of life."
It also meant more glory for himself. All knew about his unity with the Corasamon, and the mission that was agreed to. The soldiers that had joined him at the meeting with Sawl, had spread the news quickly. In fact, the whole matter was a dream come true, for Skhoragg.
Most of the Gnolls were quite pleased with their lives in Ryell. Their huts, mountain caves, and tree houses were comfortable enough. Above all those things, even treasure, he wanted land. More than just a collective of small mountains and forest along the Asmynd River. With land, the Gnolls could build a kingdom!
"The Corasamon has offered us this new life," Skhoragg continued, "and I intend to accept it."
No one reacted at all. It was a well known rule to keep silent and still, while in the King's presence, to listen, and to obey.
"Tholgrin!¨ He called. ¨Shahd!"
Two Gnolls, armed with swords hanging from their belts, and decorated quarterstaffs in their hands, walked to the base of the steps to the throne. They just appeared from somewhere other than the crowd. Both wore a bright red strip of fabric around their right upper arms. They were Chieftains, or Culmaahr, as the Gnolls called them, which was the only rank above the common soldier, or Ammuhl, and the next to becoming Corasaohl. They were the only two heirs to follow Skhoragg, despite his four sons.
Gnoll lords came from Chieftains.
No exceptions.
The Culmaahr growled at each other. Whether they were the best of friends, or even blood relatives, did not matter. They were competing to be the next Corasaohl of Ryell. Missions were a test of their warrant.
Skhoragg smiled at his two greatest warriors. They were his most loyal, and powerful scapegoats.
"At dawn your troops will depart." He began. "Tholgrin. You shall take your men to the wetlands of Druln. The Bowenn and Mynnorah armies will be passing there soon."
"Yes, your Excellence." Tholgrin stepped aside for Shahd to receive his orders.
Skhoragg favored Shahd, but he did not let it be known. "You will camp at the Asmynd River. The Elves will try to pass by way of their mighty ship. I assume you can organize a plan to avoid that."
He was not asking.
"It will be done, great Lord." Shahd smiled. His station was much closer than Tholgrin's.
"Bring forth the sacrifice!" At Skhoragg's command, two soldiers exploded from the crowd leading a female by her wrists. She was not resisting, but she was not keeping up very well.
She was dressed beautifully in a gown of fine silk, with colorful flowers arranged in top of her head. She was beautiful, if only to another Gnoll. The soldiers took the girl up the four steps they were allowed to climb, and then released her to stand at attention.
Skhoragg stood from his throne, and slowly descended the remaining four steps. He stared into the girl's eyes.
They filled with tears as she quivered.
The time had come, and she could not stop it.
Would not stop it.
Skhoragg lived for moments like these. He knew that any one of the Gnolls in the village, would give their life, at his word.
Her eyes did not turn away from his. Not before, or even after, Skhoragg produced a long knife from his belt, and quickly thrust it into her abdomen. He followed her widened eyes down, as she fell to her knees.
Lifeless.
Power surged through the Corasoahl's veins. A tainted power, that always left him craving more. It was a darkness that his soul strived for, as if it was needed to exist. He did not have a problem giving in to the desire.
He allowed it to consume him.
The girl had no choice, but to die. It was for the good of her people, and for the hope of victory.
For Skhoragg's pleasure.
All hailed him.
XIV
The Foebanners
¨Could there be a finer morning, my love?" Asked Nerol, as he placed his hands on the stone railing around the balcony outside of his bedchamber. The wind fluttered through his fine brown robe, and twisted the hairs of his bushy beard. His hair was no less scrambled on his head. He looked at the newly risen sun, the vastness of his kingdom, and the beauty of the gardens below.
"You sound anxious to be leaving me." He heard Yudora say from their bed. It was an exquisite bed, in an equally exquisite room. A large canopy of thin silk, colored a light mauve, was draped over the large bed, fastened to four corner bedposts.
He turned to look at her through the open doors behind him. "Anxious to see an end to this, darling."
Nerol walked back into the room, then sat next to his wife, while she tried to appear more upset than she was.
"You know well that I have no desire to leave you, my Queen." Nerol assured. She did know. "As well as you know, that I must."
Yudora rested her head back against the headboard, with the covers pulled up near her neck, and tucked under her arms. Her long, graying hair was down, but still appeared to be neatly combed. Her face needed no cosmetics, even after waking. She was only fifteen years younger than Nerol's age of three hundred and ten, but she had the agelessness of a young girl. The corners of her eyes held the only wrinkles evident. Yudora did not wish to dye her hair - as her friends all had - but she had begun to feel much older, lately. She did not feel like a complete woman. Her title. Her kingdom. Her wealth. Her power. They all seemed less and less like great possessions, with time. To others, she was the same beautiful, friendly, loving queen she had always been, but Nerol could see the distance in her eyes.
They were as distant as his.
"I suppose I will not see much of you on your last day here." Yudora was not asking, and spoke with an acid tongue.
Sighing, Nerol thought about the day ahead of him, and he could not deny that she was absolutely correct. He would be totally consumed in his plans until dusk. A day he had prepared himself for, but
did not wish to see arrive.
Tomorrow, would be harder still.
"I must dress." He said, wearily, and began to stand.
Yudora caught his arm before he could, and her cover dropped, revealing her white nightgown, which Nerol could see right through. "Stay with me a while longer, my handsome prince."
Nerol smiled.
"I am sorry, my love." He did not brush off her hand, just easily slid out of its reach, and stood. "I have no time for selfish pleasures today."
The Queen frowned, and pulled the cover back up to her neck, as she watched him make his way to the large, oak wardrobe.
He had no need to examine his choices. He knew he would wear his old military uniform today. He pulled it out from the rest of the fine clothes, and unfastened the strap that held it to the hanging rod. Holding it before him, he did examine that particular article. It looked as impressive as ever, and he was confident that it would still fit.
"I hope you have filled your day as well, my princess." Nerol laid his General's uniform neatly on the end of the bed. He removed his robe, and was left standing in only his long underpants. Only Yudora had the privilege of seeing the King that way. Seeing her eyeing him, he quickly began to dress.
"I shall have to find a way to fill the next fifty days, I imagine." She was looking out the window when he looked at her, sadly.
Again, she was right. Still, there was no just reason for getting his ears twisted. Like it, or not, his duty called him elsewhere. Why would she choose to make his last day home as miserable as possible? Was she afraid for him? Afraid he may not return?
Only the Creator knew his fate, and Nerol had faith in him to do right by his kingdom.
He was hesitant to say anything, then. She would have to speak first, or they never would.
So it was.
Not a sound from either, until the King was dressed, looking at himself in the large standing mirror.
"Well," he began, turning to her, "how do I look?"
She looked him over with angry eyes. There was no chance of her being a fair judge. He did look rather dashing though, like a mighty soldier. He was the King.
