The Queen's Curse

by Hellenthal, Natasja

  They had travelled miles along the riverbank, following the small trail downstream and it was getting dark already. A complete day was lost in their search and both were upset and worried. Neither of them mentioned it, but both knew that the next day would already be the fourth day of Elimar’s detainment, and they had only two and a half weeks to get back with a spell, or he would hang.

  They were not even sure anymore whether they were going in the right direction, for if the map was not correct, the bridge could easily have been upstream.

  Tired and frustrated they made camp. They would have crossed the river if it was not so wide, deep and the current so strong. They really did need a bridge. After a few words, they agreed to go upstream the following day after a good night’s sleep.

  In the evening, at their hot simple dinner of vegetables, nuts and dried fruit, both were silent and did not speak much. They tried to be cheerful and not give up; for they were very much aware what was at stake.

  The next day was sunny and bright. However, Artride had had a nightmare in the early morning hours and woke up sweaty and alarmed. Tirsa had enjoyed a dreamless deep sleep whilst normally she slept quite light; like a cat. Nevertheless, she grabbed her sword immediately when she heard the queen cry out, stumbling when getting up. However, when she realised the other woman had been dreaming, she stepped back.

  ‘I dreamt they took you away,’ Artride explained in a quavering voice.

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘I do not know. Horses, shadows … hands pulling at you, dragging you away. I never felt so … despaired and … and … lonely before …’

  Tirsa smiled when she realised the queen had dreamt about her! ‘Well, I am not going anywhere, and I am a ‘slayer’, remember?’ They exchanged looks and Artride smiled; but in a concerned sad way and her eyes did not glow.

  Artride bathed herself in the cold river while Tirsa gave her some privacy and went for a short stroll nearby in the woods. When they reunited, she was silent all morning, as if she could not shake the dream off; it had been too real. Alarmingly, she once had a similar dream of her father, the night before his death last year. The doctors said he died of a heart attack, but she knew it must have been the curse responsible. The curse appeared to be milder for kings than for queens. But presumably, her father had done something the curse did not agree with; for he was a strong and healthy man, but what? She never found out, and her father’s counsellor seemed to keep it well hidden from her. Her father had never concealed anything from her. Unfortunately, it was not a written rule for a counsellor to share everything with a new queen if it was something that did not have to do with her new task and Ceartas. So whatever it was, it had had to be something else; something unpleasant. After her father passed away, his counsellor Gradolf, instead of becoming Artride’s new counsellor, left to become the new counsellor of her uncle Volmer. Not that she minded it that much; she never liked either of them anyway. Volmer was also the Count of Morinthië – an important trading county of Razoras; a former enemy of Ceartas, but now an ally since their last war. Even though Artride was not sad to see him leave, she was left alone with her new task and alone with the book, the army, and her guards.

  The queen and her bodyguard crossed their first camping place, which did not show traces of them at all; Tirsa had made sure of that, so only they knew they stayed there two nights before. Following the trail upstream, they strolled on.

  And against all odds, in the afternoon of their third day of travel they finely found the bridge. It appeared to be made of stone and wood and looked truly ancient and ready to collapse any minute.

  ‘When we come back, I have to make sure to replace this one.’

  Tirsa looked surprised at her. ‘Why? With all due respect, why would you encourage people using the bridge when it might not be safe in Dochas?’

  ‘Believe not the bad report till it be proved. And what if I want to come back?’ and she smiled mysteriously at the knight.

  What does she think she will find there? Tirsa thought a little doubtfully. A safe haven to escape to and never come back? Well, I couldn’t say I would blame her. It would be selfish, but what do I know about the life of a queen under the power of this horrid book? From what I heard so far it is a pretty helpless and painful task.

  They dismounted their horses and carefully crossed the long fragile bridge. When they did so, they both felt a cold breeze rushing along their skin, and dark clouds started to form.

  ‘What a sudden change of weather!’ Tirsa announced loudly, trying to make herself heard above the upcoming roar of wind that brought sand and even small twigs flying about. The sand stung their eyes and their clothes fluttered and pulled at their bodies. With some effort they finally managed to reach the other side; a dark wood. When Artride looked up, she noticed the sky had grown overcast. The clouds had darkened from the grey pale of granite to anomalous grey-black. It was a very foreboding sky.

  ~ ~ ~

  ‘They are entering the Magical Land,’ a male voice hissed, displeased.

  ‘Precisely what I expected,’ another, more self-confident male voice remarked.

  ‘She is trying to get rid of the curse again. Hmm, she shows courage to go into Dochas with only one guard, but foolishness too. Come on, follow them.’

  ‘No, wait, Lord Volmer. Not too close. I have heard a lot about that young guard, Commander Lathabris; she might look like a girl, but she has as much field experience as both of us and is just as dangerous as she is charming. Even for us – my Lord.’

  The big dark man glanced restlessly at his older grey companion, but he tempered, for he respected his wisdom. He was after all his counsellor. ‘All right then, from a distance.’

  ~ ~ ~

  The two women mounted their horses and rode into the mixed woods. The storm still raged, but the trees caught the wind mostly. Soon they left the wood and came across brownish-dark purple moors, with no tracks.

  When they entered another wood with old oak trees, large pine trees and large ferns, the sky had grown even darker. Rain started to fall heavily, sooner than expected and they dismounted to find some shelter under a huge dense conifer tree. The horses stirred restlessly and appeared nervous. Meanwhile, the rain did not stop from sheeting down harshly, so after a couple of minutes they resolved to move on. Drenched from the rain soaking through their woollen tunics, and chilled to the bone, they continued on the now muddy trail, sticky with mud.

  ‘I have to warm up and walk a little,’ Artride announced idly and patted her horse. Tirsa could hardly see her face for her dark hood covered most of her features. The horses walked in front of them with their heads hanging low, their bodies shining wet.

  Tirsa suddenly saw Fiosa stretch her ears backwards, what she did when she heard a sound from behind. The knight stopped for a moment, shoving her chain mail coif backwards to listen while the two horses and the queen walked steadily on. She squinted her eyes against the falling raindrops, and pierced her ears with her hair drained, close to her skull. She had discovered when you concentrated on your hearing you could actually hear more. Her shallow breathing created white plumes while she stood sensing for anything, and then when she was just turning around, in a flash of a moment she saw a face … a man’s white face. Rapidly she dug but not before gazing at Artride, walking unaware, away from her. She had not noticed that Tirsa had stayed behind to listen, and there had not been time to tell her.

  As fast as she could she began to run almost soundlessly, while staying as low as possible. She gave her trained horse the sign on the back so she would flee soundlessly. When she reached the queen, she launched herself against her back, hauling her to the ground towards the left, clutching her around her waist with one hand and with the other covering her mouth.

  Together they landed on the wet mulch, halfway into the high ferns, which proved ideal for their hiding. Luckily, Artride’s horse had run along with Fiosa; they had grown fond of each other and began to trust one another, so they were al
so hidden from sight.

  Artride had landed on top of Tirsa who took the full blow of the fall on her back before rolling on. She stretched onto the queen’s back now, still covering her mouth. Her hood had fallen off. Is this a crime? Tirsa wondered. Artride tried to make a comment, but found it impossible with Tirsa’s hand firmly closed over her mouth. She twitched her head, staring with big eyes into the warning eyes of her companion. Has she gone mad? Was all Artride could think.

  Her bodyguard pointed to their right, where she had seen the face, moving the two of them closer into the ferns which covered them completely now.

  They heard the soft slow thudding of hooves coming their way through the open woods close to where the women lay hiding; right in front of them. Two horses. Artride dared not move.

  The low voices were whispering and unmistakably male.

  When they had passed Tirsa rolled off the queen’s back, all the way excusing herself for her behaviour.

  ‘No, you did the right thing,’ Artride responded whispering; stretching onto her elbows, straining to look at the faces and just managing to recognise one of them before they vanished from view. She let herself roll on her back to the spongy forest floor and stayed frozen with wide-open eyes and a snow-white face. She covered her face with her muddy hands.

  Tirsa resolved to see if they had really passed without noticing them, and worried about their horses, still ahead of the men. She sat down beside the queen whose mud-stained face was screwed up with horror.

  ‘Do you know who they are, my Lady?’ she asked unnecessarily. Tirsa tried to be casual.

  Artride sighed and also sat up, still with tormented eyes, trying to dry and clean her wet muddy hands on her leather breeches, though failing at that mostly.

  ‘Volmer; my uncle,’ she softly murmured so that the other woman had to come closer to hear her.

  ‘Who; your uncle?’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Artride added, ignoring or not hearing Tirsa’s comment. ‘How could he have followed us; we were so careful.’

  ‘Why would he follow us?’

  Artride stared at her with big fearful eyes and blinked a couple of times with her long black lashes flashing, as if she suddenly awoke to find herself in a nightmare. She looked totally drenched from the rain.

  ‘I do not know. He could not have known we were heading for Dochas. No one knows.’ Tirsa peered in the shadows and stared back at her. ‘But you said your guards would take care of anyone following us.’

  ‘He is Royalty and must have talked his way through when the guards tried to stop him.’

  ‘And what about the other guy; his bodyguard?’

  Artride shook her head beneath the hood in discomfort and bolted her hands into fists. ‘That must be Gradolf, his counsellor and protector.’ And she gestured in the direction their own horses had gone; not so far from where the two men had headed. ‘What about our horses?’

  Tirsa grinned. ‘I taught Fiosa to come back after a while; she knows when it’s safe and will stay clear of them. I just hope your steed will follow her.’

  ‘But even a horse cannot know those men mean ill.’

  Tirsa winked at her with one eye while she said, ‘Believe me, I taught her well; all men mean ill.’

  Artride suddenly slapped her knee in frustration and softly cursed.

  ‘Why do you fear them so, my Lady; what harm can they do? It’s your uncle, family?’

  Tirsa still did not quite get it; she could still be naïve and innocent even after all that she had been through, which appealed to Artride. To Tirsa, it was obvious that Artride was not pleased to see them, but she seemed more than upset.

  She laughed. ‘I do not really fear them. I detest them to put it mildly. Volmer just makes it all very hard for me.’

  ‘How come? If I may ask?’

  She tugged her hood closer at the nape of her neck for she was getting cold. ‘According to the book I have to marry before I turn thirty; in two years that is. It is the old story; my uncle always made it clear to my father and me, he wants his right to the throne. He finds it hard to fathom that now my father is dead, his offspring instead of the brother, inherited Ceartas.’

  She gazed up at the canopy of leaves above them, from where the rain poured on her face; closing her eyes she continued, ‘I have the first right as a child of the firstborn, not the second born. When a first-born marries, the husband or wife inherits the throne. When they are both gone, the children do. He knows that. Father’s counsellor betrayed my father when he went to my uncle to serve him. My uncle is a Count in Razoras; Morinthië, you see, and that position is not enough for him. He just does not let go of the thought to rule over Ceartas.’

  ‘Razoras!’ and she narrowed her eyes. ‘And if he kills you, he will be king.’

  ‘Yes, however, he won’t do that for he knows about the curse and the curse won’t let him get away with murder unpunished. Even if he had me murdered by an assassin, he would die too. He knows the rule, I am sure of it. That is the only rule I am glad about. However instead, he plans to marry me. He already asked me a couple of times,’ she reflected in a hot voice.

  Tirsa looked puzzled and speechless for a while. ‘Marry you, but … he is family, blood related!’

  ‘In Razoras these things appear to be quite common,’ and she added with a weary chuckle, ‘what else would you expect?’

  Tirsa had to think about this disturbing news and wiped her runny nose on her sleeve; facing away from the queen.

  ‘And the curse … or the book will allow this marriage?’

  ‘Apparently it wasn’t a crime in those days. I have to give my word to him before it will ever happen and obviously I won’t.’

  ‘But why don’t you marry someone else instead? He can’t bother you then, can he?’ she asked silently.

  ‘I will,’ Artride said somewhat uncomfortably ‘But until now Volmer always stood in my way when I invite suitors into my castle. My undercover soldiers found out he bribes the young men with large sums of money and strange stories about me. I even have evidence of his soldiers wounding a couple of those who ignored the stories. Unfortunately, I can’t have him punished for that, nor can the book; for those things were also quite common in those days when the curse was born. Royal women were not really supposed to choose their partners themselves, but men on the other hand …’

  ‘Who does he think he is?’ Tirsa coiled her fists in anger; her second nature by now.

  ‘Since all that I haven’t made much effort. I don’t want to endanger any more men.’ She hung her head low.

  ‘But what if they come unexpected?’ Artride resolved to look at Tirsa to see if she was serious and let out a small wheeze.

  ‘Unexpected? I do not think that word exists within the borders of Ceartas, nor my castle.’ And she turned her face away and pulled her heavy hood a little further over her forehead so her face was hidden. ‘Everything has to be planned; you of all people have found out yourself when you wanted to see me.’ Tirsa remembered that clear enough.

  ‘Well, they can only come by my invitation or when they ask me officially by letter. But I can’t seem to hide those things from Volmer; he always knows. Sometimes it is as if I have a spy in my castle. I really can’t trust anyone.’

  Surely, a woman of her beauty must not find it too hard to find a lover out there … Tirsa pondered. Well, lovers surely, but a suitable husband is something else of course. He will most probably have to be approved by the book. I do feel sorry for the poor lad; not understanding what will bestow him fully until the queen can tell him after they are fully married. He himself will have a life in chains no doubt; golden as they may be, chains nevertheless. Also, you really have to have a heart of stone to endure the pain and grief of the powerless queen. And probably it’s more like marrying the book than her. But didn’t she mention the privileges Royal men have above women? She shook her thoughts off and narrowed her eyes. ‘Perhaps that counsellor is to blame.’

  ‘I
deny Gradolf any excess to Tarac, but like I said; I don’t trust many people of my household. There must be a spy.’ Tirsa thought about Jaromir, the head of the queen’s bodyguard.

  ‘What about that bald guy, Jaromir?’ she asked gingerly.

  The queen smiled lightly. ‘Jaromir is a good soul. He is always there when I need advice and looks after me and loves his country and his queen. But then again … you can never tell, can you?’

  And how can she trust me? I did not sign or vow anything …

  After a moment of listening to the rain falling on the leaves and the ground, Tirsa pointed out, ‘And of course, Volmer followed you when he found out you were going to find a husband on your own. I don’t want to be rude; but you had to see that coming.’

  The queen licked her wet lips and reflected solemnly, ‘I did, that is why I ordered my guards to stop anyone following us,’ her jaw was set in a grim line.

  ‘We don’t know what truly happened.’ Tirsa tried to comfort her, rubbing one knee, which hurt a little from the fall. ‘Maybe you have been underestimating those two men.’

  The queen did not comment, but had to admit to herself that Tirsa was most likely right. When she was sure her uncle could not kill or stop her from going, nor follow her, she thought she was safe and sound. What a fool she had been.

  ‘If they are clever enough,’ Tirsa pondered, getting up on her rather stiff legs again, reaching a hand out to Artride, helping her up, ‘they will come back looking for us. It looks like they have been following us from a small distance; so we’d better hurry and change course, before they trace us.’

  And like Tirsa predicted; their trusty horses came back to them after a few moments. Artride could hardly believe her eyes.

  They chose an alternative route through a dense wooded area, urging their horses off the trail and into the thick underbrush. And when the forest became of a more open nature, they let their horses gallop as fast as they could, hoof beats drumming.

  The persistent drizzle in the air turned into a thin spray. Artride did not want to stop and look for shelter to finally warm themselves, which there clearly wasn’t. There were no caves or fallen trees big enough to cover two humans, let alone two horses in the open landscape. She wanted to get rid of any followers, and as far as the Magical Land was concerned; no magic had been noticed so far.