Always Golden

by Gina Dickerson

  ‘For justice!’ The soldiers punched the air.

  ‘Leave now,’ Vilas ordered. ‘Bring back all of the prisoners and make sure they are fed and watered.’

  ‘Even the prisoners who are there because they broke the law?’

  Vilas steered Bron up and down the line of soldiers. ‘As I said, we do not know Acapf’s prisoners actually broke the law.’ He raised a hand. ‘We have followed orders from higher above us yet we do not know if any of King Acapf’s collection are really criminals. We shall remove the rings from their necks and hear their stories, if they broke any law they will be given sentences accordingly, if they are innocent they shall be freed.’

  One by one the soldiers directed their horses from the drawbridge, each nodding in turn to Vilas as they passed him. Vilas circled around the mouth of the drawbridge, watching the soldiers depart for the other castle in the west. A small surge of pride welled in his stomach. This was it, he had made the choice. He would no longer feel duty bound to honour Hashir. If the king would not relinquish his hold on Oriana’s lands, then, he, Vilas, would protect him no more.

  Vilas stabled Bron before making his way into the castle. He did not have the time to brush Bron down as he would have liked but at least he could make sure the animal was reasonably comfortable. Yet more soldiers patrolled the stable courtyard and Vilas counted another twenty. The soldiers nodded at him as he passed, some making eye contact, others not.

  An arch led to the inner courtyard where neatly tended plants and shrubs grew. Vilas stopped in his tracks. The stone slab paving surrounding the raised planted beds was stained red. If it had been the scene of a mass execution in his absence, the bodies had already been removed but their blood clung on as grim reminder.

  Inside the castle, curtains hung in charred tatters at the windows and the floor was also stained blood red. Vilas turned down the long corridor leading to the dining hall, figuring it was lunchtime for the king. More soldiers lined the corridor making Vilas wonder if he knew them all or if Hashir had somehow recruited more.

  ‘Halt!’ The two soldiers standing guard directly outside of the dining hall’s doors crossed their swords. ‘Announce yourself.’

  They were both new. Vilas glanced at the men behind him. In fact all of them were new; he did not recognise a single face. ‘I am Vilas.’

  ‘Go ahead.’ The soldiers uncrossed their blades and opened the doors.

  Vilas strode through the doors, which crashed shut behind him. He blinked, once, twice, not quite able to believe his eyes. Seated along both sides of the table were a total of eight women, all young, all clothed in fine dresses, all terrified, and all with a ring around their necks.

  Hashir rose from the head of the table facing the doors. ‘Welcome back, Vilas The Charming, my faithful commander!’

  Behind Hashir stood a man Vilas did not recognise—one so tall he was almost double the height of the king. His hair was cropped painfully close to his head, and his shoulders were broadly muscular. His raisin-type eyes narrowed as he stared at Vilas.

  Vilas swallowed, unease settling in the pit of his stomach. ‘Hashir,’ he replied.

  ‘King Hashir to you!’ snarled the large man, making to move towards him.

  ‘It’s okay, Caw.’ Hashir held up a hand. ‘Vilas should have pleasing news for me.’

  Caw made a growling sound.

  ‘Come.’ Hashir gestured to Vilas. ‘Join me at the table.’

  Vilas walked slowly past the women seated at the far end of the table. Their eyes swivelled to him and within them he read a mix of fear and hope.

  ‘What’s this?’ Vilas indicated to the women. ‘Why do they have rings around their necks?’

  Despite the tales he had heard he needed to hear Hashir say it, he needed to hear it from the king’s own mouth.

  ‘There’s plenty of time for that.’ Hashir kicked out a chair for Vilas. ‘Tell me first you have found the princess Oriana and worked your magic on her.’

  ‘I have.’

  Hashir rubbed his hands together, a gleeful smile twisting his face. ‘Excellent! I knew you would not let me down. Where is she? Is she preparing herself for our first meeting?’

  ‘I want you to answer a few questions before I answer you.’

  Hashir’s smile waned. ‘By all means, proceed.’

  ‘Did you have Oriana’s parents beheaded, or was it your father?’

  ‘Who do you think?’

  ‘Answer the question.’

  Hashir rubbed his mouth. ‘My father, of course.’

  Vilas did not miss the flicker in Hashir’s eyes. Liar. ‘Does the queen’s hair retain its strength although she is dead?’

  Caw bent down and whispered something in Hashir’s ear which Vilas could not hear. ‘It does, although once it has been harvested it will not regrow of course. The one headful is all there is. There is enough to practise with but we will need more if we are to perfect the ultimate weapons.’

  ‘Which is why you want Oriana, isn’t it?’ Vilas glanced back at the women sitting silently at the table.

  Hashir frowned slightly. ‘You know why I want the princess, not only was she promised to me but I desire her. I need a loving queen by my side.’

  ‘And what if she does not fall in love with you? Can love really grow from nothing?’

  Hashir stared at Vilas. Interlacing his fingers with each other, he rested his elbows on the table top. ‘So, the rumour is true.’

  ‘Rumour, what rumour?’

  ‘You want the princess for yourself!’

  ‘I do not!’

  ‘You charmed her into falling for you. Once you laid eyes upon her you decided you wanted her. You fell in love with her and made her fall for you when you were supposed to make her fall in love with me!’

  ‘I don’t know who told you that but it is not true.’ Vilas’ tongue suddenly felt too large in his mouth.

  He hadn’t charmed her, had he, when he had first thought she was Maerie from the farm? No, he had deliberately made an effort not to. Once he knew she was Princess Oriana he had been far from charming...rude and distant, even to his own ears!

  Hashir rubbed his chin. ‘You deny spending a night with the princess?’

  ‘I do not deny spending time with the princess.’ Vilas did not want to tell Hashir of Oriana’s pretence of being Maerie.

  He wanted to protect her. Maerie had been his and only his, Hashir would not understand.

  ‘You shared a bed with the princess.’ Hashir clenched his hands into fists upon the table top.

  Caw moved closer behind the king, resting a large, dinner-plate sized hand upon the back of Hashir’s chair.

  Vilas ran hot and cold. His voice sounded false even to his own ears. ‘Who told you that?’

  Hashir raised a hand to Caw. The larger man leant down behind Hashir’s chair and pulled something from a box.

  ‘He did.’ Caw brandished a severed head in the air. ‘His story was not a happy tale so I cut off his head for upsetting the king.’

  Vilas baulked.

  Damn it, that low-life cretin had betrayed him and his reward had been the cost of his life!

  The women seated around the table stifled cries.

  ‘You recognise him.’ Hashir motioned for Caw to return the head back to its box. ‘You should do, considering you broke his arm when you pushed him from a window. Where is Oriana? Where is my princess?’

  ‘She’s not here.’ Vilas eyed up Caw. The other man was much larger than him. He did not relish his prospects in fighting both him and Hashir before the guards from outside burst in.

  ‘Where is she?’ Hashir smiled, the action sickening Vilas.

  ‘Tell me first why these women have rings around their necks.’

  ‘They are thieves and murderers. They are sentenced to be my entertainment.’

  The blinkers were well and truly off. Vilas swallowed down the bitter taste of revulsion. ‘If they displease you, do you sever their heads with those rings?’<
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  Hashir’s face was expressionless. ‘Of course not, old friend. The rings are merely trackers so I know where they are at all times. It is part of their punishment. Now, where is the princess?’

  Hashir should never have the chance to lay a hand on a single strand of hair on Oriana’s head. There was no way on earth he would ever tell Hashir where she was. Hashir would never care for Oriana, not like he did!

  Vilas stood, figuring he had more of a fighting chance on his feet. ‘You will never see her. I will not allow it.’

  Not while he was still breathing.

  Hashir sighed. ‘Oh, Vilas, what have you done? You stupid, stupid fool.’

  Before Vilas knew what was happening Hashir flicked his wrist and a metal disc hit him, instantly stretching into a ring which snapped tight around his neck. Collapsing to his knees, Vilas clawed at the ring, sucking in a breath at the searing pain. He couldn’t stop his mouth from opening, and he writhed while the roof of his mouth burnt as a stream of white light shot out. Crackles of light sparked across his irises, making his eyes water, impairing his vision.

  What the hell was this magic…evil?

  ‘Don’t bother fighting.’ Hashir approached Vilas and relieved him of his sword. ‘You cannot remove it by force, if you do, it will burn you to death.’ He pushed his face up close to Vilas’. ‘Why did the one time you fall in love have to be with her, with the one woman you knew I wanted above any other?’

  ‘I never said I was in love with her.’

  It wasn’t love, it couldn’t be. He hardly knew Oriana.

  ‘You didn’t have to; it’s there in your eyes. It’s of no matter now; Princess Oriana will be mine as she was always destined to be.’

  ‘She will never love you!’ Vilas spat. ‘You murdered her parents!’

  Hashir laughed. ‘Ah, you saw through the lie, yes, I murdered them—not my father—and I enjoyed it...the same as I will take immense pleasure from making many, many, golden haired children with the princess. Imagine the weapons I can make, the armour I can have tailored for me. I will be undefeatable in battle. My soldiers will be undefeatable, and with their weapons forged from the magical hair of my beautiful wife, I can take over all of the kingdoms in this pitiful country. With all the children Oriana will produce I will simply have to wait for them to grow and come of age so I can harvest their hair!’

  ‘You will treat the princess as nothing more than a cow!’

  Hashir paced around Vilas. ‘I will treat her better than a cow, Vilas, come, come, I am not mean. She will have her own bed, in her own room. She will be well fed and looked after.’

  ‘She will be your prisoner.’

  ‘True. She will not be allowed to leave unless by my side. She will have to show her father’s people she obeys me.’

  ‘She will not want to bear your children.’

  Hashir’s face turned ugly. ‘She will have no choice in the matter!’ he screamed. ‘She will do as her king damn well orders—no, as her husband orders!’ Spittle sprayed from between the gap in Hashir’s two front teeth with his anger.

  Vilas defiantly raised his chin. ‘It is true. You are a monster. I just didn’t see it before.’

  Hashir tipped his head back and laughed. ‘You were as easy to deceive as my father. Your father often said to me how he wished I were his son and not you. He was always disappointed in how weak you are. How soft. No matter how hard he tried he could not knock the compassion out of you. Behind that soldier facade lives a pathetic man wanting to be loved. Your father did not love you, Vilas. No-one will love you now, not with your scars. Take him away, Caw. Once he is secured, send the men for the princess. I imagine she is hiding not far away. The time for games is over, I am growing impatient with playing around. It was fun to begin with, now I just want my princess by my side.’ He cast a glance at Vilas and smiled. ‘Or rather, beside me in my bed—no wait, underneath me—and completely naked.’

  Vilas struggled as Caw grabbed him, lifting him from his knees to his feet. ‘No!’ he shouted. ‘I will find a way to stop you, Hashir!’

  ‘There is no way.’ Caw tightened his hold. ‘Not once the ring is around your neck. You will never escape.’

  Damn, what was the man, a giant?

  The more Vilas struggled, the more the ring heated up. ‘These rings aren’t trackers, are they?’ he shouted to Hashir as Caw dragged him towards the doors. ‘You may as well tell the truth now.’

  ‘Wait!’ Hashir extended a finger at the nearest woman to his right. ‘You want the truth, Vilas? I don’t have to tell you the truth, I can show you.’ He looked around the table, eyeing up woman after woman.

  All of the women broke into whimpers. White light fizzled from the rings around their necks and matching light shot from their mouths as they screamed. Using the thumb of the same hand, Hashir pressed the gemstone on his finger and, instantaneously, the ring around the woman’s neck nearest to him snapped inwards, severing her head before she could even close her mouth. Her open mouthed head rocked on the table top, her eyes and mouth still moving, and the remaining women screamed again.

  ‘You will never have Oriana. I will never allow you to harm a single hair on her head!’ Vilas shouted as Caw roughly dragged him along. ‘I will kill you, Hashir!’

  ‘No, you won’t!’ Hashir’s taunts followed Vilas from the hall. ‘You will watch as I add to my collection. Once Oriana is mine, you will have pride of place so you can see the woman you care so much about when she joins you. How will that feel, Vilas The Charming, being so close yet never being able to touch her? How will you feel when I have your cage carried into her room to watch as I take her to bed? Will you cry as she kneels at my feet and does as I bid? Will that charming heart of yours break as you watch my lips enjoy hers? Will you weep as you see my hands running through that gorgeous hair of hers? But best of all, what will you feel when she is old and worn out from producing my children and I take off that pretty little head of hers?’

  Chapter Twelve

  Oriana

  Oriana pulled on the trousers from her bag, tied up her boots, and tried stuffing her dress skirts into the small bag. The material refused to oblige and kept springing out in a froth of muddy satin. Frustrated, Oriana flung the whole lot in the foliage, glad to be rid of the skirts; trousers were far more suitable. She wrenched a sword belt off one of the dead soldiers and buckled it around her waist, it was too large and dropped low around her hips but it would have to do. Selecting a sword she sheathed it in the belt, and with a practised move mounted her horse and made to ride off.

  ‘You can’t go!’ Ravenna grabbed the reins of Oriana’s horse.

  ‘I am, whether you tell me to or not. Vilas has been gone for too long. He could be trapped for all we know. I won’t let him die.’ Oriana angrily brushed tears from her eyes.

  It was a time for strength, not crying.

  ‘Let me sneak in and see if he is alive,’ Ravenna replied. ‘I know the way Hashir used to break into your castle.’

  ‘They didn’t come through the door near the wine cellars?’ Oriana remembered how the door had been battered off its hinges. She had thought it was the weakest point of entry.

  Ravenna shook her head. ‘Hashir sent a man through the tunnels he had excavated, and that man allowed Acapf’s army the initial access through the wine cellar door.’

  A jolt of apprehension prodded Oriana. ‘How do you know about the excavation?’

  Oriana stared at Ravenna for a long moment.

  Ravenna blinked back. ‘I’m not on Hashir’s side, if that’s what you’re implying.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I fought many of his soldiers but I had to concede we were losing the fight. I am sorry to say I hid, which is why I am still alive.’

  ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

  Ravenna’s dark eyes flashed. ‘I’m not ashamed. I would like to think I survived to help you now. To put you on the throne where you belong. If I hadn’t hidden, I’d be dead and you’d be doing this alone.
’

  Oriana thought about it. ‘The rest of Hashir’s army do not know of the tunnels?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I found them because I fell down into a tunnel from outside. I heard voices and I know it was Hashir and one other man, I’m not sure who, but he was large. Hashir told the other man to make sure no-one except the two of them had entry to his collection.’

  ‘Show me where these tunnels begin.’ Oriana held out a hand, helping Ravenna up onto the horse behind her. ‘We go together.’

  ‘What do you plan on doing if you do make it into the castle unseen?’

  ‘I’ll make Hashir suffer the same as he and his father made people suffer. I’ll make him pay for killing my parents.’

  The ground leading towards the tunnel was mainly unmarked. Not many soldiers had been this way to the north side of the castle, either on foot or by horse. Oriana’s and Ravenna’s horses hooves sank into the soft grass and Oriana hoped no-one was patrolling the area for the prints would surely give them away. It was quiet and hard to believe the castle had yesterday been under attack. In the near distance the castle appeared much the same, save for the flags now flying from its turrets were no longer those belonging to her father. Dismounting, Oriana was thankful she had changed from her skirts; they would have dragged across the ground and become heavy with mud. Oriana led her horse to the mouth of the tunnel. Unsaddling the animal she shoved the tack into the undergrowth and patted the horse on the rump.

  ‘You first,’ she said to Ravenna. ‘Lead the way.’

  ‘It’s a sharp slope down.’ Ravenna warned. ‘I think they overlooked sealing this tunnel once they were inside the castle.’

  The tunnel started with a sharp, downwards slope just as Ravenna had said. Oriana skidded several times on the descent before the decline lessened. Daylight did not reach far and in the gloom she watched Ravenna fumbling with some items on the floor. There was a flicker of light before Ravenna passed Oriana a flaming torch, lighting from it one for herself. Silently, she waved the torch in the direction they needed to take. They carried on for a few minutes until Ravenna stopped.