Dark Throne, The

by Raven Willow-Wood

  Licking lips that felt parched and cracked from a sudden seizure of nervousness, Heather reached forwards and studied the note.

  It remained blank.

  Fade frowned at the sheet of parchment and then sighed. "Place your hand upon it. I have read my message, it would seem you have a new one of you own.”

  "How is that possible? Two notes on one blank piece of parchment?"

  Rolling his eyes, Fade grunted, "You have much to learn. I simply did not realize that the magik of Mearth would transport so well. I did not expect a dual note. Here, read this.”

  Heather reached out and gently brushed her fingers against the parchment Fade held in his own grip. She gasped as letters suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Curling and swirling all about the page like a computer animation- only, this was a piece of seemingly ancient paper, not an ebook or tablet. Letters formed and almost while they were unusually shaped, she realized that if she studied them, truly studied them and took her time to attempt to understand each and every letter, then she could read the note.

  It took her an age, as it was a slow process but Fade said nothing, apparently understanding her predicament for not even with a sigh or a grimace or a grunt of annoyance did he react to her methodical reading.

  Dearest daughter,

  The saddest day of my life was the day you were taken from me. Your father and I have never been the same since the loss of our daughter. We have mourned your loss as though you had been taken from us by the Heathers. Only knowing of your safety and that you were free from the danger of this realm did we retain some composure, some grain of sanity.

  You are learning about the new side of yourself. A side you never believed existed and while I would love to help you acclimatize yourself to this new world, I can only do so if you take Fade's hand and allow him to return you to Mearth, where your father and I await you with open arms.

  This might seem ridiculous, crazy even, but I assure you, it is very real. You are the heiress to the throne of Jender and our politics are complicated- squirreling you away on another Universe was the only way we could protect you so that one day, you could fulfill your destiny.

  This man, Fade s, is a good man. His father is evil, his nature abhorrent and while Fade sprung from his loins, he also came from my dearest and long departed friend. His father, the King, detests Fade and I'm certain that Fade will admit this. He detests him simply because of who he is. The first Elf in a thousand years to have wings on his back.

  Yes, you read that correctly, daughter. Wings.

  Let me reiterate, Fade is a good man. His mother was the kindest, most sincere woman I have ever known and to this day, I miss her terribly. She was a beloved friend and always shall be. This side of his nature has forged Fade into the man he is, a warrior, true, but a fair and just one.

  As a child, we betrothed you to one another. I know of some of the Earthling customs and betrothal here on Mearth is unlike that of your current plane. You are now joined by blood. Through that blood you are bound, as a shared magik flows through your veins. To deny one another will merely cause you great pain. We have inhibited your Elven traits through herbs and spices, my dearly departed sister had to gather on Mearth using the doorknobs to travel between the two worlds. Without her and the tea preparations she gave you, you will soon show signs of your true heritage. But, for a while longer, you will be safe after years of the herbal doses. They will safeguard you for the moment. However, Fade will soon start to feel the denial. His blood and yours are the same, like a magnet, his and yours pull together. Only through consummation of your bond will he cease to suffer. For him, it will not be long. I cannot tell you what this means, but it is a grave thing, daughter. His life depends on your own.

  Jender is in need of both of you. We need your combined powers to save our kingdom.

  But more than that, my darling, come home to your papa and I.

  We love you, dearly.

  Yours, forever,

  Your mama, Setta of Jender.

  Only as the words came to an end did Heather spy the drops of water that had splashed against the old and dry parchment.

  Confusion, horror, shock. . . . she felt them all.

  But at the same time, there was an elation humming in the background. Her mind seemed unable to focus on anything outside of the aspect that her parents were alive. They loved her, missed her and wanted to see her.

  It seemed incredible, impossible. Hell, it was more than seemed. It was implausible, inconceivable and yet. . . . she wanted to believe it. God help her.

  She bit her lip and slowly moved her hand away from the parchment. "Did you read that too?" The huskiness of her voice had her grimacing a little, but he seemed to understand, because from the corner of her eye, she saw him nod.

  "Do you really have wings?" she asked, uncertain as to why that was the part of the parchment she'd placed her first query.

  "Yes. I have wings.”

  There was a stiltedness to his voice, one that didn't speak of annoyance, but of wariness. Almost as though he rarely discussed these extra limbs he possessed.

  "Can you use them to fly?" She bit her lip at the awe in her voice. Hell, she sounded like a kid about to take her first trip on a roller coaster, but dammit, she was curious.

  "Yes.”

  "Do you use them often?"

  "No.”

  "The one word answers are getting a little tiring, buddy. According to this parchment, we're stuck together. So, let's start to share something about one another. Hell, I never imagined I'd be involved in some kind of arranged marriage.”

  "All Royal marriages are arranged. Even if they develop into love matches. There are always politics at play- behind the scenes, where the ordinary folk can't see it. It is the way of the world.” He grimaced. "But, I digress. I do not use them often, because to my people, they are repulsive. If I were to flaunt them in anyway, it would induce a riot.”

  Heather's brow puckered. "You can't be serious?"

  "Oh, I am. Deadly. Your mother is correct. My father is evil and he hates me, because of my wings. Because I'm not the perfect boy child, not the perfect heir to the Dark Throne, countless royal princesses have lost their lives.”

  "What do you mean?"

  "He marries a princess, attempts to beget an heir that can take my stead and when she fails to produce, he beheads her. He is nearing the dozenth time and each and every time, our kingdom goes to war. The princess' family declare blood debt on our land and thousands of men have lost their lives fighting a pointless battle. As such, the population is embittered against the family. My wings are the personification of why so many have needlessly died. To fly would merely incite the public.”

  Heather absorbed each and every one of his words and then slowly shook her head. "Oh my God, you can't be serious? He's killed a dozen women? Simply because you're not his idea of a perfect heir.”

  Fade nodded slowly. There was a tightness about his eyes that Heather knew stemmed from upset.

  "I'm so sorry, Fade.”

  "It is I, who is the sorry one. You should not be tied to me.”

  "Don't be ridiculous. It isn't your fault your father's a maniac.”

  He lifted his head and focused those peculiarly shaded eyes upon her. "Why are you being kind to me? You find yourself tied to a stranger for life, have learned that you are an Elf. . . . why aren't you screaming and shouting?"

  Heather's smile was wry. "This is the calm before the storm. I'd take advantage of the peace before I fall into hysteria.”

  He eyed her carefully. "You will wreak havoc?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't feel very disturbed, but at the same time, you're right. I've just learned that black is white and that two plus two equals five. I'm a very calm person, actually. I guess if we're going to spend a lot of time together, then you'll get to know me better and will see that. I try to never get stressed or even angry and just roll with the punches. Life's a lot nicer that way.”

  "Yes, y
ou do seem to be coping with all of these revelations rather well. I commend you,” he congratulated, a slight smile twitching about his lips.

  She grinned in return and using the strength in her thighs, powered upright and on to her feet. Almost as soon as her head acclimatized to the new position, her grin faded and urgency flooded her veins. For a moment, Heather stood in a stasis and then, she literally vibrated with action as she rushed from Fade's side, headed to the sink and managed to clear the dirty bowl and spoon she'd used for her breakfast that morning from the bowl, before promptly vomiting.

  So much for dealing with revelations calmly and rationally.

  The thought accompanied her next bout of retches.

  Chapter Four

  Council Chambers, Haden, Mearth

  "The only way we'll allow you to take the Dark Throne is on a temporary basis. Until a more deserving heir can be found to take your stead.”

  Calder scowled at the head councilor. He hoped that his hatred wasn't entirely visible, but truthfully, Merrick always had been and always would be a supercilious bastard. Because of this and Merrick's royal zealotry, Calder knew he had to tread carefully. For two reasons.

  One, Merrick couldn't suspect that he was the next man on Calder's eventual hit list. And two, the King's death was fresh in most of the councilor’s minds, suspicion was bound to be directed his way as the next person to take the throne- be it on a temporary or a permanent basis.

  That being said, there was no way on Mearth that he was relinquishing his rightful place on the Dark Throne.

  The last great King of Haden had been his father. While his mother's blood might hold the taint of a commoner, his

  father more than made up for that. Why should a minor royal perch his arse upon the Dark Throne, when they had he, Calder, son of Bruce and half-brother to Charek.

  Charek certainly hadn't continued the line in a very honorable fashion. Producing a freak of a son -a throwback, with wings of all things.- and then causing the slaughter of millions of his people.

  His blood might not be wholly royal, but he was more deserving of the Dark Throne than his atavistic nephew.

  "A more deserving heir? Are you insane? The King ignited a dozen wars in a vain attempt to procure another, viable heir. Where in inferno do you think you're going to find one? I'm all you've got and the council should start treating me with respect.”

  "Until Fade returns, you are all the council has,” Merrick quickly tempered.

  "Fade will never return.” As soon as the words escaped his mouth, Calder regretted them. He could actually see Merrick's ears prick up and Calder knew he was about to be on the receiving end of a line of questions he didn't want to answer.

  "How do you know that? We've questioned thousands of men. Hundreds of thousands of men. Not a one of them knows where Fade disappeared to and the hoonans haven't leapt upon the bait and declared that they have him in their keep. We would have received a huge ransom demand, were that the case. So, how can you state with such fire and certainty that Fade won't return?"

  "I was the Court shaman, Merrick. There are many things that I'm privy to, things I can not divulge and never shall.”

  "If it concerns the true heir to the throne, Calder, then you are required by law to share this information.”

  "He isn't the true heir, Merrick. My brother's fight for a viable heir does need to be discussed.”

  "Just because he has wings on his back, does not mean he is not suitable for the throne.”

  Merrick's argument caused Calder to jump up and bash his fists against the table. All five of the councilors jolted backwards in surprise. The council table was triangular in shape. He, Merrick and the vice councilor, Beren, sat at the three points and the remaining three men sat in between them. The room was bland, no decoration save the chair Calder sat upon, a smaller version of the Dark Throne, which glistened with jet and sparkled with diamonds.

  When he'd first taken his seat upon the chair, his blood had literally fizzled through his veins.

  This was his proper place.

  His rightful place.

  And no upstart councilor was going to take this from him.

  "Of course, it means that. Fade was a throwback. He had no place on this throne and we all know that.”

  "We know no such thing. There is nothing in royal law that states a King cannot bear wings upon his back. King Charek was incorrect in his supposition that Fade was not deserving of his future place upon the throne. As you are not the rightful heir and are aware of Fade's location, then I have no choice but to act.”

  "What do you mean, Merrick? Act? How?"

  "Firstly, you will be placed in the King's rooms, but you are under house arrest. You will act as King in only a superficial manner until Fade returns. The council will deal with any legalities and any important issues until the rightful heir is found.”

  Calder's chest began to burn. Fury ravaged him, but it was no use. The council had to declare him King before the kingdom's highest born subjects- without that declaration, he was nothing more than a pretender to the throne.

  His back teeth ground down so fiercely that pain arrowed along the length of his jaw. "You have no right to do this,” he retorted, even though he knew his words were false.

  Merrick merely smiled, a smug smile which made Calder want to punch him. "You are aware that without the Council's acceptance, no new King can be declared. Enjoy your house arrest. . . . Either that or enable us to locate the true heir to the throne.”

  "I can't do that.”

  "Of course, you can. Don't be foolish. At least tell us where you saw him, in a vision?"

  Calder glared at him. "It goes against my sacred bond to the shaman brotherhood.”

  "What matters more? Your shaman brotherhood? Or your desire to sit upon the throne, pretender?"

  Calder slowly sank back down from the standing position he'd taken earlier.

  For a moment, he simply sat there. The uncarved and knobbed stones and gems dug into his spine and while it ought to have been the most uncomfortable seat Calder could ever have perched his arse upon, it was the most glorious. And worth fighting for.

  Ought he to lie? Or should he utter the truth?

  For a moment, he weighed his options and settled upon the truth, for even with the truth, there was little Merrick could do.

  "They are frequently of little use to the shaman, as such, the layman is often unaware of the crystal orbs' existence. Are they in your ken, Merrick?"

  "Yes. I'm aware of them. They're supposed to display visions, are they not?"

  Calder couldn't help but smile at the facile answer. "They are so much more than that. They show visions of other dimensions.”

  "Other dimensions?" Beren squawked.

  "You lie, Calder.” Merrick spat out and sank back into his seat with a glare.

  "I do not lie, Merrick.” Eyes flashing, Calder bashed his fist upon the table's surface once more. "I speak the truth. The crystal orbs show visions of other dimensions when one of our own has visited them.”

  "Are you trying to tell me that Fade, the rightful heir to the Dark Throne, is in another dimension?" Merrick stood, his movement so abrupt that his chair jerked backwards, teetered for a moment on its tipping point and then crashed into the floor.

  "That is what I'm trying to tell you, yes, Merrick.” Calder took pleasure in Merrick's disconcertion.

  When Charek had died, the entire castle had been thrown into disarray. No one had suspected that Calder had added a potion to Charek's evening tipple of Bormonsey ferment. The drink was a revolting mixture of berries, fermented to produce an alcohol so strong that it knocked most men out. Its flavor was strong enough to hide even the most noxious of poisons, something Calder had taken great pleasure in adding to the King's drink. Hubbin's dew. A perfect toxin as it simulated the symptoms of an attack of the heart and left no residue within the body for any pesky healer to find. . . . And where the king was concerned, ten healers were brought in to det
ermine and decide upon the cause of death.

  Almost that very night, when Calder had been celebrating his brother's death, he'd been removing all traces of Hubbin's dew from his quarters and had noticed some action within the usually transparent crystal orbs. Fade had entered another realm and was being attacked by a woman wearing very little. A strange covering over her quim and a thin slip over her torso and tits. The room itself had been peculiar too, but then, it would be. Parallel dimensions were similar in certain ways, then completely diverse in others.

  It was nigh on impossible to return to one's own dimension after having travelled to another, as such, Fade was as good as dead. But since Charek's death, nothing had been as easy as he'd first imagined. At the time, he'd thought that Fade was in no way a contender for the throne- those wings of his made him detested by almost every single member of the kingdom. Even so, a portion of Hubbin's dew had been winging its way to him, until Calder had seen that vision.

  Dammit all, it would have been better if he had murdered Fade. Now, they would simply wait for the man's return, because he still existed. And Calder would not be presented with the throne, he would merely sit upon it and act as for that bastard throwback.

  Glumness assailed him. A life's work was in the drains and the only way he could think of changing that was to murder Merrick and blackmail the rest of the council. Something that was possible, but not for a good while yet. If another prominent member of the upper echelons were to die of an attack of the heart, then perhaps questions would arise. It was an innocuous method of death, the cause for many a person to die, but still.. suspicions could not arise. Merrick had only just inherited this council seat. His father had died two years ago, but even before that, he'd been nosing about the castle. Always asking questions and seeking answers. For a man of forty-three to die of an attack of the heart. . . . it was nigh on unheard of. He was a man in his prime, only just risen to adulthood.

  Thinking of Merrick's age prodded a reminder out of Calder. . . . he and Fade were contemporaries. Obviously, they were friends and Merrick was protecting his chum.