Blades of Fate
Alledria Hurt
Copyright Alledria Hurt
Blades of Fate 2017
To My Readers, thank you for everything.
I enjoy my romps through the world of Leviana and Vad’Alvarn.
Thanks for coming with me.
Coronation Night
From every corner of the empire, people had come for the annual festival in spite of it having been moved. In the streets, the throng had an air of anticipation laced with amusement. Those invited to the coronation retired from their duties early in order to prepare. The Queen herself being no exception. When she returned to her rooms with the Trusted at her back, Merlyn greeted her with a low bow.
"You've brought the dress."
"Precisely as agreed, Immortal," the woman said. The group moved into the private apartment of the Queen to stand on the maroon carpet festooned with birds and flowers. The carpet came as a gift from those of Membelar and was woven of mountain goat hair and dyed with berries. On a dressing dummy, the black dress hung long with its elaborate stitching. Though she could have, Leviana did not wear the crest of her own reign on the night of the festival for the Black King. She remembered herself as his bride on this night of all nights and wore the dragon he favored. Each bit of stitching stood out in stark contrast to the black fabric in shades of gold and scarlet.
"Merlyn, it's beautiful."
"And for the Trusted," she opened a small trunk and revealed the worked leather of the Trusted's outfit for the night. It carried some of the same stitching but was certainly more functional. The Trusted nodded her agreement, keeping her opinion to herself.
"I fitted it to your measurements from the last time I cut a dress for you, so as long as you haven't gained an ounce, you should fit," Merlyn said as she unbuttoned the dress from the dummy. That gave Leviana a moment to see the buttons, each a single piece of carved bone. Completely appropriate for her. "Do you wish to try it on before you go into your bath?"
"I will trust your skill, it has yet to fail."
"Then I will await the Queen's command. Certainly she will not deny me the chance to be the first to see you wear my work. It would be an honor."
"Yes, Merlyn, you may stay and dress me. When the royal tressor comes to do my hair, you will be free to leave."
"Thank you, Immortal."
"You are welcome."
"Versa," Leviana said. "I trust you will be ready when it comes time to go down to meet the Council."
"I will certainly be ready in time. I will escort you."
"No, I will have the new Voice escort me to the throne room. It will do him well to be seen at my side."
"Of course, Immortal."
"In fact, would you be so good as to find him and let him know of his plans for the evening?"
"Leave you without a guard?"
"Guards there are aplenty. I will be fine for a short while."
A servant entered on quiet feet with her arms full of towels and soaps. She waited to be acknowledged before saying,
"The Tressor is here. He merely awaits the order to come in. I told him he had best wait until after you've bathed."
"Thank you, Latanya." The Trusted waved her into the bathroom where she put her things down and left. "Time draws apace and if you want me to go find the new Voice, I should leave now. Will you enter the bath now?"
"Yes, I will. As you say, time draws on apace. Merlyn, will you keep me company in the bath?"
"If the Immortal wishes."
The Trusted made a face and left the room. Merlyn watched her go and asked,
"Is she always like this?"
"She takes her position as my second very seriously, which pleases me. However, there are moments when her presence is stifling. Come, the bath is warm now I should avail myself of it while it is."
Versa had no trouble finding Kendrick. His preparations kept him in his rooms. When she knocked on the door, he opened it with his face still covered in shaving soap. He let his hazel eyes coast over her before gesturing for her to enter.
"What can I do for you, Trusted?" he asked.
"The Immortal wishes you to be by her side when she comes down for the play."
"She sent you to carry this message to me when there were any number of pages available to her?"
"I do not question her decisions." Versa stood with her arms crossed over her chest, one hand resting idly on the sword in her belt. Kendrick, by contrast, carried no weapon save the straight edge razor he used to trim up the hair on his face. He returned to the mirror as she stood there. When she said nothing else, he asked,
"Is that all?"
"She also intends to travel to the tomb on tomorrow, as I'm sure you know."
"It has been her custom for years, I see no reason it should not continue to be so," he said bringing the blade across his cheek. When he brought the blade back around past his throat, Versa stepped up behind him and took it from him with ease.
"Let me," she said.
"You'll be late returning to her."
"She is in the bath. She won't miss me."
He stiffened and let her swipe the razor across his skin. She left clear paths behind her strokes. Soon he had only patches of the shaving cream left. With that done, she dropped the razor back into his hand by the handle and stepped away.
"Thank you." To wipe the remaining cream away he splashed his face with water. Dragging wet hands through his long hair, he considered his companion. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"Do you favor her? She thinks you do."
His motions stopped where he wiped the water out of his eyes.
"What makes you think that?"
"The way you fawn over her."
"Should I not fawn over my sovereign? She is elevating me from a life of obscurity to one of presence."
"Perhaps you should, but if you will don't be so obvious about it. She will think less of you."
"You are hardly the one to be giving me advice."
"I may not be, but I'm giving it to you anyway."
Versa turned to go, but with a parting glance said,
"You had best hurry. She does not appreciate lateness."
Merlyn clapped as Leviana turned in her new dress that hung long to her shoes. She would have to hitch it up ever so slightly to keep it from getting dirty. Leather shoes with heels popular in Kerlan had been brought in for the occasion. They made her feet feel strange, but once she got used to walking in them she would feel fine. The Trusted returned wearing her leather armor with the new stitching and a cotton shirt underneath. Merlyn looked the woman over and smiled.
"You both look quite good in my creations."
"You've done good work," the Trusted said. Leviana said nothing immediately for admiring herself in the mirror. Finally, she turned to her companions.
"I think this will be quite a good night."
"Certainly, Immortal."
Latanya entered.
"Immortal, the tressor is still waiting. He would like to know when you will need him."
"I'm dressed now, he may come in."
"Also, Immortal, Master Kendrick is here."
"And I haven't had my hair done yet. I suppose he will simply have to wait."
"Of course, Immortal." Latanya ducked her head and left the room. The tressor came in with his curlers which he could use over a brazier. It would take some time to curl the mass of hair the Immortal sported, but she would not do with less on this most important evening.
"Dear Immortal," he said as he was setting up. "Would you like your hair up or down?"
"Down. Much like I wore it the night I was married to our king."
"As you desire." He set the curlers on the brazier and let them warm. "I will do something fantastic to yo
ur hair. It will be the talk of the court."
"I expect it."
An hour later, she turned as Kendrick entered and started across the carpet. He wore black and gold, which would compliment her dress quite well. If she were in a more charitable mood, she would allow that he reminded her of the Black King, but she was in no such mood. The joviality she had shown with Merlyn had become a much more businesslike attitude in the intervening time of having her hair done. This night, sacred as it was, waited for her to see once again the death of her beloved. Then she would travel to see him where his body rested. The idea nearly brought tears to her eyes. Carefully, she blinked them away. It would not do to cry now. There would be other things more than capable of bringing out her tender side over the course of the night.
"Dear Immortal," he said. "Are you ready?"
"I am."
Outside the window, the sun descended close to setting. Once the sun set, the play would begin as it always did. She took his arm and stepped up next to him.
"It is time for us to go," she said. Together, they left the room. Walking through the palace together, she was almost glad he could hardly see her face. It would only make him nervous for his place.
Sweeping into the main hall, she let her gaze linger over the assembled. Her councilmen and women wore black sashes over their finery in deference to the occasion. Kendrick helped her to her seat before them all. In the center of the room, cloth had been hung. In the standing room only space, players would bring forth the reason they gathered on this very night.
Together with others, a young man and woman stood out from the crowd. They crossed the floor toward each other and when they met in the middle, a third joined them wearing the garments of a priest of Ancel. Their wedding ceremony.
Leviana remembered it with a haze not unlike mist. At the beginning she was not the sovereign of her own body. She shared it with another woman, a young girl who knew nothing of the power she carried.
Before them, the sacrifices paraded, each falling before the daggers wielded by the wedding pair. Then came the culmination, the one they had to dispatch together. He fell to his knees before the couple and offered his chest. All watched in breathless anticipation as once again, they drove the ceremonial dagger through his chest. The sacrifice fell on his face, the strips of blood created by streamers of wet silk that hung heavy to the floor. He rolled up and flipped out of the frame leaving behind the pair. They danced together and around one another in the moment of finishing vows.
No matter how many times she watched it, Leviana felt the pricking of tears. Their final moments together had been so unaware of what was to come.
Holding hands, they came to a set of cushions waiting for them. Dancing girls and drummers appeared out of the crowd to simulate the wedding feast which came after their vows. Beside the pair, another sat.
Navar. He would become her first Voice, willing to go forth into battle on nothing more than her order. His hair had a habit of falling in his eyes when he was tired. Though he had not cried over his best friend, he missed him greatly. Becoming the Voice had not changed that. She let her gaze drift from the players to others in the crowd. Though it appeared everyone was watching with rapt attention, she found a few faces where they had less than adoring expressions. Attendance was not mandatory, but it was definitely something which could be counted against anyone who did not come. Loyalty to the memory of the Black King meant much even three hundred years after his death.
"These players are better than last year's," Kendrick murmured to her. She did not dignify that with a response.
The wedding feast rolled to a stop at the entrance of the woman playing Curcula. She wore the white of innocence and bound her hair back. Leviana did not remember her that way. Of course, time had changed some things in her mind and of course there was the fact that she was responsible for the death of her most beloved. She approached the couple and the drums rolled like thunder. The man playing Navar stood only to be pushed back in a false tug of war against Vadian. Leviana heard the words Vadian spoke in her ears. He had asked her if she would allow it. The tradition was the Queen's Indulgence, she had to decide if she would allow it.
If only she had known what awaited.
A heavy tear hung in the balance at the edge of her eye. She dashed it away.
Curcula and Vadian squared off in the middle of the floor. The battle took too long. Vadian took his wound. Curcula stabbed herself. They died in throes of artistic agony. The girl playing her ran across the floor and threw herself on top of the body. Navar came to her aid. The drummers beat a solemn tempo. All on the stage froze in place and all the lamps were doused at once throwing the room into rolling darkness which only the moon alleviated. Silver light streamed in from the windows.
Someone began hooting and the sound carried through the room to be picked up by others. The drummers continued to play. Few understood the reason for the dousing of the torches, but Leviana remembered. Of course she would. She shared his curse. The darkness offered her little refuge. The dragon was not her spirit.
The cacophony went on until she stood. Silence came slow. She put her hand out to the man at her side. Kendrick stood as well. She lead him down to the center of the room where the players now hurried to clear away their props. Before all of the assembled, she stood with him at her side.
"The time has come to promote a new Voice. The last has gone to the Black King retinue," she said. "I offer you Kendrick Layric, of the house Layric. He has gone before the judges and stood his own. I bring him to you, my people, to become my Voice among the masses. What say you?"
The rote response rang through the room.
"We welcome him."
There with the moonlight ringing them, Leviana reached out to Kendrick and drew him into a kiss. Around her body a blue glow reigned. It joined around him.
Running feet dashed across the distance and Leviana felt the first prick of a blade in many years. The stab went through her dress and brought a gout of blood. She whirled to her attacker, thrusting Kendrick away, and drew her sword. Others went for their weapons as well.
In the preceding weeks, Warden had been busy. He secured his invitation to the coronation through a minor noble who came down quite suddenly with a case of the shakes. Judiciously applied poison sometimes handled certain problems. Then came the need to have appropriate finery for the occasion. It would not do for others to remember him because he came shabby. A costumer outfitted him for far less than a tailor would have asked and he got to keep the costume for other occasions. Not that he saw himself needing it again. Prudence however dictated that he be ready for any possibility.
While he had the chance, he worked on his swordplay. He didn't relish the idea of taking on one of the better swordsmen in the country, but he would finish his commission. Finally the day came that he waited for. He wore his bought costume and made his way into the palace complex with his weapons concealed on his person. The bracers at his wrist held spring blades. The ceremonial appearing sword carried an actual edge.
Mingling among those who had every right to be there, he heard tidbits of conversation.
"Have you heard the Adherents of the Light are planning a festival in honor of the Queen in addition to the one the Queen is having?"
"She hasn't said anything, so I guess she's not pleased."
"There is no telling. She could have some other agenda."
"The Queen is not often the kind to aggrandize herself at the expense of her people."
"Yet they worship her as a god. The Black King lived as long as she did."
"Truthfully, longer. He lived through a time before he was king as well."
He passed away from the conversation seeking some finger food. Small baked cakes circulated through the crowd and he snapped up a couple.
"What have you heard about the daughters of Curcula?"
"Only that they wish to see the Queen's reign come to an end. It would make sense that they were calling themselves after the Bet
rayer Wife. Only she would want something so terrible."
"I don't think it is that terrible."
"Hush. You can't say such things."
Warden stuffed a cake in his mouth and turned his attention to another group. No one paid attention to him, exactly the state of affairs he wanted. He needed to appear and disappear in the crowd.
The Queen entered on the arm of a man he did not recognize. However, the chatter identified him immediately.
"Kendrick Layric."
"He's her choice for the Voice?" A smattering of others said a few things, but Warden tuned it out. Politics meant little to him. Money and his life, those were the important things.
The entertainment began.
The lovers came together there on the floor. Hand to hand and face to face before twirling away and coming together again. Warden watched them distractedly. His eyes kept slipping back to the woman seated above them. She leaned in her chair and seemed less than truly interested in what went on below her. He was still looking when she dashed the tear from her eye. He turned his gaze back to the players. The man representing the Black King danced around the woman playing the Betrayer. They came together and mock battled fists flying and a blade coming between them. With a flash of silver and a silken streamer, they showed the wound the Black King took. Then the Betrayer stabbed herself. They both sank to the floor. The woman who portrayed the Queen threw herself across the body of her beloved, only to be pulled away from him by the other man. Warden knew the story as well as anyone. It was told throughout the empire and celebrated every year. There was not a child born in a hundred years who did not know the story of the betrayal of the Black King, hailed as the true father of the empire. The room plunged into darkness as the play ended and someone began hooting in appreciation. The sound picked up and carried. Warden let his eyes adjust waiting for his moment to come. She would descend from her throne soon. The coronation must come before he could make his move.
The Queen stood and everyone came to a stop. The drummers let the sound disappear into the room. The moonlight made the room bright in places. She came down with the man in tow. He listened to the sound of his heart in his ears as she spoke. Warden clicked his blades into place.
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