The tiny house seemed to have only one large room, a kitchen and maybe a back room; Sarah was unsure. The little kitchen had shelves stocked with jars of various herbs and other items that Sarah could not make out.
Eclectic and unusual, Sarah’s heart swelled at the absolute simplistic beauty of it. There was nothing glamorous or divine about the home, but it held a certain charm. This is how she would like her own home to be—silent, comfortable and every available space filled with things that belonged to her. She had never possessed anything or had such a home. Her years on Earth, before the cages—from what she could recall—were spent traveling around to where there was food and safety from the government’s soldiers.
The woman herself was eclectic and unusual in that her hair was bone straight, and it fell almost to her ankles. Her face seemed to be no older than a young servant girl; yet, her home indicated that only one person resided there. She obviously was old enough to care for herself, but her age remained elusive.
“I have not seen you at the castle before. Are you new to Veloris?” Sarah asked as she cautiously sat down on the pile of blankets near the fire.
“I am the Queen’s personal servant. You are not supposed to see me,” the woman said as she took bottles from the kitchen’s shelves and placed them on the table. She then opened one of the bottles and poured a powdery substance into a mug.
Sarah said nothing. She had met the Queen that morning and did not see any indication of a servant. Although ill, the Queen still struck a powerful figure and a dominant one. She had assumed the Queen did things for herself.
“I am with her when she is at her weakest and to assist her with her baths, among other things,” the woman said as she poured a blood red-colored fluid into the mug as if reading Sarah’s mind.
“My name is Octiva,” the woman continued. “I have been expecting you.”
Octiva brought the mug from the kitchen and handed it to Sarah. “Drink.”
Hesitantly, Sarah took the mug, peeked inside and then sipped a little. “There is no smell, what is it?”
“It is a drink mixed with crushed toadstools, thyme and feathers from the henckens, among other things,” Octiva answered as she sat across from Sarah on the blankets. Her legs were long, but she seemed small to Sarah.
“What does it do?”
“It will chase the cold away and relax you,” Octiva answered as she removed her sweater revealing thin arms and small breasts. The undershirt was almost transparent, and Sarah looked away.
Sarah sipped a tiny bit more, but felt no different than she had when she arrived. The mixture, smooth and fruity, tasted far better than the bitter ale from the dining Halls. Lifting the mug to her lips again, she eagerly drained the mug of its remaining contents.
“You like?” Octiva quipped. “That’s good.”
Sarah could only smile as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. There was an aftertaste of something metallic, but she could only swallow the taste and grimace.
“You said you were expecting me,” Sarah started once the aftertaste had passed. “Why?”
“Yes, well, the scrolls stated the one would come here.” Octiva tilted her head sideways as she watched Sarah. “You are the one. I know you do not believe it,” she continued. “Despite what the Oracle told you today?”
“How did you know?” Sarah asked, shocked. “I – I don’t remember what the Oracle said.”
“I know everything that happens in the castle,” she replied. “It is not because I am a servant that I know all. But you are not here to debate the value of servants, are you? And the Oracle, well, just wait a few moments.”
Octiva folded her legs and placed her hands out in front of her with the palms facing Sarah. The room seemed to slant to the right and suddenly Sarah could see the pores on Octiva’s face. They seemed large and close. Her perception tilted and the room slowly began to fade in and out as it became blurry. Shaking her head hard, she squeezed her eyes shut then opened them.
The room appeared bloated and much too warm. She took off her cloak and fanned her face. “What did you give me?” she asked Octiva who was now standing with her palms still facing Sarah as if pulling or pushing energy toward her.
“I have already answered that question,” Octiva said as she helped lay Sarah down on the makeshift bed. “Now, what is it you really want to know?”
Octiva rubbed her hands together, “Why are you here?”
Sarah felt sick and the urge to vomit raced up her throat. But instead of throwing up, she coughed out, “I want to know who I am?”
The ceiling continued to languidly rotate around and around. “Marion said I was the one,” Sarah added weakly.
Octiva pulled her hair back from her face. Sarah could now see her chestnut brown eyes. They suddenly glazed over and became a creamy white as she spoke in a monotone voice that soundly eerily like the buzzing chant of the Antiqk Oracle. Chills spread over Sarah’s body despite the hot room temperature.
“You are the one named Sarah, whose birth has been foretold by the Oracle at Antiqk since the time before the Minister Knights and Zoë. You are the savior of the Pixlis Galaxy.”
Sarah violently shook her head in denial. “No, no, it is not true. I am only a woman. I am only a woman!”
Octiva continued as if Sarah had said nothing. “You must save the Pixlis Galaxy from Valek or all is lost. All is lost. All is lost!”
“Stop it!” Sarah screamed. She wiped her damp hair away from her face. The dam inside her memory broke, and a flood of hidden images from the Antiqk Oracle commenced along with memories of her father, a high priest of the Antiqk council on Earth when she had only been a young child and of her sister Amana. The Antiqk Oracle had resurrected the memories, making her remember her father’s violent death at the government soldiers’ hands. It went on to replay how she and Amana were sold to Valek and taken to Solis where their souls were placed into the cages. She was no longer mentally in the room. Her mind had floated back into history and ancient lore.
Octiva tossed leaves of clove about Sarah’s body as she thrashed about in a fitful sleep and alarming visions.
Her mother had been murdered as well, and Sarah had suppressed those memories. Instead she had replaced them with false memories of her father and mother being farmers when Valek arrived on Earth. She recalled now how she made the story up to ease her younger sister’s pain, but over the decades, she had come to believe it, too.
Octiva tossed rose and tulip petals around the place where Sarah slept. Twigs of pine and evergreen had already been stuffed under the makeshift bed. Octiva next took a handful of bay leaves and scattered them over Sarah’s wet face. Her eyes were open but she did not see the room’s surroundings, only the vivid visions of the Oracle.
“Your destiny has already been written. Embrace it for you can not elude it.” Octiva, now the smiling woman from a few moments before, patted her shoulder.
The visions had ceased as suddenly as they had begun. Wet with sweat, Sarah uncoiled herself from the tight ball in which she was in and breathed a sigh of relief.
“You are a very wise and brilliant sorceress,” she said as she blinked repeatedly and stretched. The pale streams of the morning sun streaked through the windows and lit up the large room. The fire had burned down to almost nothing and Sarah shielded her face from the light.
“How much time has passed?” she asked, no longer seeing the darkness of night.
“It is morning,” Octiva answered as she folded up her blankets and moved about the room picking up various leaves, twigs and flower petals.
“Morning!” Sarah shouted as she got up from the floor. She snatched on her cloak. Tying the belt tightly around her waist, she dashed from Octiva’s home, started to sprint back to the castle when she stopped just a few paces from the door, turned and yelled, “Thank you!” before running down the trail. Octiva waved as she watched the savior of the Pixlis Galaxy hurry to the castle.
Just as Sarah was out of sight, Octiva ret
urned to the large room where the reconciling of Sarah’s memories had finally dissolved into the truth of her existence. Lifting both hands to the ceiling and whispering a spell of unraveling, Octiva’s cute face melted into the very distinct older face of Queen Zoë. The Queen, now back in her own shape and appearance, called to the back room where the real Octiva stepped out and rushed to the ailing Queen’s side.
“Madam, are you okay?” Octiva held Queen Zoë’s arms as she half carried, half dragged her over to the fireplace.
“I must get back to the castle, to the central baths. I must replenish my strength,” Queen Zoë whispered.
“Yes, at once,” Octiva answered as she went to get the Queen’s cloak and danker beast.
* * *
So concerned about the possibility of Marion or Kalah not finding her in her quarters, Sarah barely took notice of the cold. The sun had already chased the usual coldness of the night away with its morning rays; nevertheless, the temperature of Veloris was still frigid and chilly.
The early morning servants were already busy in the kitchen and were starting to prepare the morning meals when Sarah reached the backdoor. They pretended to take no notice of her as she hurried through the kitchen, through the empty East Wing Hall, and up the stairwell back to her room.
She took the stairs two at a time as she anxiously quickened her pace to get to her room before it was discovered she was missing. She reached the top step and let out a sigh of relief that no one was impatiently waiting for her there.
She slipped into her room, quickly took off her clothes, and crawled into bed, where exhausted, she slept.
Chapter Eight
The morning arrived too quickly for Zykeiah. She snuggled further under her warm blankets; the fireplace had long since died in the wee hours of the morning leaving nothing but the scent of floral petals in the air.
Heavy, loud knocks beckoned her from her cozy bed and into the brisk, chilly morning air, which did not put her in a good mood.
“What is it?” she barked as she wiped the remains of sleep from her eyes and opened the door. The refuge she sought in the bottoms of ale mugs last night did not seem a good an idea this morning. The throbbing at the base of her neck complained when she made sudden gestures.
“Mam, it is time to prepare for your knighting.”
Groaning, Zykeiah opened the door wider to allow three girls to enter. Each carried an item. The three girls were known as the Ushers; they prepared all knight-aspirants and ushered the knights into the Ministry. No one knew exactly how long they had been around or how old they truly were despite their timeless youth. There was no doubt; they were far older than their looks indicated. Their beauty and sensuality must have been an added joy for the men who were knighted.
But Zykeiah wasn’t interested in that.
While still in her favorite robe, Zykeiah was led down to the central baths by the first girl, named Iris. Iris’s ice blue eyes, dark skin and hourglass frame caused a stir with the younger boys of the castle who were hanging banners, lighting candles, and sweeping. None dared to call to the Ushers. Their presence was sacred.
“Once we enter the central baths,” Iris whispered to Zykeiah, “we must wash your hair and body to show your devotion to Veloris.”
Zykeiah nodded, still sleepy and hungry. The rituals of the knights were kept secret, and she wished nothing more than to get it over with.
The two other Ushers set up for the continuing rituals once they entered the central baths.
Itala, the second young girl, had olive skin, slanted black eyes and straight jet black hair. She went to the trough, turned the tap, and filled two buckets with warm water.
The third Usher was named Iga, a bronze-colored girl with wooly hair and bright hazel eyes. She held the towels in her arms to dry off Zykeiah when she emerged from her hair washing and bath.
Iris dropped scented oils of lavender, frankincense and rosemary into one pail of steamy water. “This is for purity.”
Zykeiah disrobed and climbed into the tub closest to the trough. While Iris used cups of water to wash and rinse Zykeiah’s hair, Iga brought more water to fill the tub. Zykeiah waited for the hair washing to be completed with patience.
No one spoke as the tub was filled.
When the tub was filled almost to the point of running over, Iris said, “Zykeiah, this ritual is to cleanse you of illness, immoral habits, and negativity.”
Iga placed several white candles that smelled of vanilla around Zykeiah’s tub, and then lit each candle. Woody twigs of fresh rosemary were placed in the water, followed by more lavender that was dunked repeatedly before being removed.
Iris took gauze and filled it with chunks of salt from Earth 4016’s dead seas. She dunked them seven times into the bath and said, “Concentrate on what you wish to be cleansed of. Water is purifying.”
The three girls waited silently as Zykeiah meditated and tried to purge herself of the bitterness she had acquired while a slave in the soul cages. She lost track of how long she had been meditating when she heard Iris finally say, “Come, mam.”
Iga and Itala, using white fluffy towels, dried Zykeiah off, taking extra care with each leg and arm, with each finger and toe, and with each breast. It felt very strange to be toweled dried like a Queen, Zykeiah thought. She was a former slave.
After being dried off, Zykeiah dressed in a white extended-sleeved tunic that fell to just above her tapered ankles. She followed the group to her room where her bed was stripped of its original coverings and replaced with a red covering that symbolized the willingness to shed blood for the Minister Knights of Souls.
Zykeiah was placed in the bed and covered with black blankets that symbolize her willingness to die for the Minister Knights.
Iris, Iga and Itala placed charcoal briquettes into the fireplace as Zykeiah rested in her bedchamber. As they finished, Iris sprinkled a pinkish powder made of bay leaves, cinnamon, blood wine and myrrh across the briquettes. Once the fire was lit, the charcoals burned the powder, creating a floral incense that radiated throughout Zykeiah’s room, ridding it of evil and despair.
“Mam, this is a banishing incense that eliminates all unwelcome spirits and forces them from this room.”
A drowsy Zykeiah nodded and fell asleep as the three Ushers prayed and meditated around her bed.
* * *
Sarah did not rest as she sat upright in the soft bed. Her stomach turned flips and rolled over again and again as she mentally replayed the scene in Octiva’s quarters. It still made her nauseous.
Today was Zykeiah’s knighting and Sarah’s hands trembled despite the low fire and the three blankets that attempted to stave off the cold air. Sarah raised both hands with her palms pointing to the ceiling and focused on an image of a burning, intense fire.
At first nothing happened.
She felt foolish. What exactly did she think she was doing? She had seen how Octiva had commanded the elements of magic and earth to do her bidding, but Sarah knew she didn’t have any power like Octiva.
Or did she?
She closed her eyes and urged the room to be warmer. She relaxed and soon the flames grew higher and brighter despite the absence of additional wood.
Satisfied and surprised, Sarah let out a yelp and then studied her hands as the fire continued to burn.
“Wow!” Sarah shouted to the empty room.
Strange, Sarah’s hands had tiny markings on them that were not there moments before. A sharp burning sensation would occur, and then another tiny ‘x’ mark would appear, irritated and red. The markings were raised and turned purplish in color after a few moments.
Although tender, they did not hurt once they had surfaced. She would need to see the Queen today for some ointment to heal her hands. But how would she explain it?
The Antiqk Oracle had given her the basics of who she was, the rest she had found out last night at Octiva’s home. It seemed like a dream, far away and surreal, as if it had happened to someone else. Sarah pic
ked up her cloak and smelled it. It smelled of the exotic mixture of rosemary, flower petals, and fire.
If she went to the Queen, she would have to explain the markings. What would she tell Queen Zoë? Should she confess that she had been to the servants’ homes? That she had been experimenting with powers she knew nothing about? Powers that the Oracle had shown her. What would Queen Zoë say?
Shouts and calls of excitement erupted outside and Sarah went to the window to investigate. A lengthy line of servants was walking from their quarters to the castle on the same trail Sarah had just walked a short time before. The servants laughed and carried supplies, which were mostly decorative items, such as ribbons, banners, and kegs of what could only be wine and ale.
“Oh, Zykeiah’s knighting is today,” she groaned as she watched the servants enter the East Wing kitchen. “And I promised I would be there.”
She turned away from the window with a heavy heart. She could not afford to miss the knighting, for Zykeiah would most certainly be looking for her and who knows what Zykeiah would do if she found out Sarah did not attend. Zykeiah did not play by the rules; she was a rogue in a den of gentlemen.
Fear crept back in and gripped Sarah’s heart at the memory of her meeting of Zykeiah yesterday. Zykeiah’s intense and unnerving stare made her shudder. She pulled her gown closer as the sounds of celebration grew louder outside.
She knew that sleep would be delayed today as well as she balled her hands into fists and placed them in to her lap.
* * *
The drums heated to a fiery pace as Amana hurried to the mines. MaxMion rarely said anything harsh to the laboring souls except when they were late. He hated tardiness; they produced more when they were all present and working together.
The darkened caverns beneath the Solis’s black, slick earth could be confusing and the winding tunnels that lead from this section to that section often were mistaken and souls would arrive late. MaxMion would then send them to the warehouse to be compressed into the Solance pulp, never again to regain life.
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