Shadows of the Realm (The Circle of Talia)

by Lister, Dionne

  Avruellen paid the couple a few coppers. They took the food to the cottage to eat in private. The interior proved to be homey enough, albeit with a mildly musty odour. It was apparent it had been vacant and closed up for a while, but remained in good order. A small, square table, surrounded by two chairs, sat in the corner opposite the door, and two single beds crowded the other back corner, next to them a comfortable rocking chair. The beds were bare, so Avruellen made the girls drag the mattresses outside to release some of the dust. Whilst they did their job, Avruellen dusted the table and laid out the food, plates, and cutlery they had been given.

  Bronwyn moved the rocking chair to the table and ate with her plate in her lap. She had never realised how comfortable furniture really was. This trip was the longest stretch she had ever gone without sleeping in a proper bed or sitting upright in a chair. Nature was beautiful, but could be terribly uncomfortable.

  The warm food elicited lots of “mmms” from the girls. Fresh, soft bread with a generous spread of butter on top was a nice change from the bread they had brought, which apart from now being hard and stale, was almost gone. "Do you think the lady would sell us some food? With Corrille here, no offence, the food won't last until we get to the city."

  "I'll ask her tonight. Maybe if she doesn't have enough fresh bread, you can get up early and make us some." Avruellen smiled at Bronwyn’s horrified expression.

  "Ah, no thanks. I suppose I could go without bread for three more days."

  After dinner Corrille and Bronwyn took the plates to the homestead and washed them. The lady of the house gave them some cups and a fresh pot of tea. Avruellen smiled to see the girls enter with the fragrant brew. Avruellen had appropriated the rocking chair and was soon comfortably rocking and sipping. When they finished their tea they went to their newly made beds, which Avruellen had prepared. No one wanted to sleep on the floor, so Corrille and Bronwyn shared a bed top to tail.

  A voice speaking in Avruellen’s head woke her shortly after she had drifted off. She sat up. Arcon?

  Sorry to startle you, but I had to warn you. Blayke and I were attacked this afternoon, and he was almost killed. You must be extremely careful. We had to leave more than one body behind. The enemy must know who we are, and I wouldn't be surprised if they knew about you and Bronwyn.

  Oh gods, I've had a weird feeling since the meeting. I feel as if we're being watched. At first I thought it was Corrille...

  Arcon interrupted. Who's Corrille?

  Bronwyn's childhood friend, long story. Anyway, it wasn't her. The feeling won't go away and seems to be intensifying the closer we get to Bayerlon. Are you alright?

  Apart from Blayke's blunt introduction to death, we're ok. Be careful. We can't lose anyone. Sorry I can't come and help, but we've got our own problems. I’d better go. Take care.

  You take care too. The presence left Avruellen's mind.

  Arcon had taken a great risk to warn them. If the enemy were watching his symbol in the Second Realm they may have followed him to Avruellen. He must have thought the other risk outweighed what he had just done. Things were not going well. How many people had Arcon killed? Avruellen had to assume they were coming for her and Bronwyn already. She just hoped they weren’t close. Sleep was not going to return, so she lay awake thinking until morning.

  They were packing their belongings when there was a knock at the door. Avruellen opened it to see the farmer's wife with a basket full of food. "I've prepared some breakfast. There are also a few things for your journey."

  Avruellen stood aside and let the woman place the basket on the table. "Thank you. Your hospitality is without measure. If only everyone were as nice."

  The woman smiled. "It's the least I could do. I have a feeling your journey may be a long and dangerous one. I only hope you and your girls get where you're going safely. Enjoy the food, and good luck."

  After she left, they sat down to a hearty breakfast of pancakes with fresh butter and honey. "Mmm. This sure beats the watery porridge we've been eating." Bronwyn shoved in another mouthful. After breakfast they transferred the rest of the food from the basket to their packs. There was a fresh loaf of bread, fruit muffins, jam, biscuits, and fried potato cakes. There was some cooked bacon that Avruellen put in Corrille's bag. Along with the dried fruit, porridge, and small piece of cheese, which was still in Bronwyn's bag, they would have enough food to get them to Bayerlon.

  Before they left, Avruellen warned her charges: "Without trying to scare you, I need you to be watchful. If I ask you to do anything, anything at all, I expect to be obeyed instantly. No one goes out of my sight, at any time, for anything. We do everything together from now on. Do you understand?" It was a rhetorical question; they both nodded. "Good. OK. Let’s go."

  Corrille narrowed her eyes, and Bronwyn could see she resented being told what to do. In a way, Bronwyn felt too old to be treated like a child, however, she knew deep down that her aunt must have a reason. In fact, she had noticed Avruellen was jumpy, always turning her head this way and that—not her usual demeanor.

  After they set out, Bronwyn noticed Flux was also acting strange. One minute walking with them, the next ranging out to the side, behind or ahead, and they went for hours at a time without seeing the fox. Bronwyn worried. Whatever had upset her aunt must be important. She hoped it was something they could cope with. Her philosophy of not worrying about anything until it happened was hard to uphold in the present circumstances. She hoped it wasn’t too long before she set her eyes on Bayerlon.

  In the distant Third Realm, a barren wasteland where the Gormons waited and cultivated their hate, what passed for laughter shrieked forth from the creature. Its watchfulness in the Second Realm had paid off. Stupid humans. One fool had led him to the other. Before long he would know them all, and when it was too late for Talia, they would know him. He grated his scaly palms together, careful not to cut himself with his own claws. Two of his High Priests had already travelled the ethereal corridors to Talia. Even now they were adjusting to clumsy human bodies. Soon, soon. It would all be his, soon.

  8

  The sun's rays warmed the castle walls. Clear winter light played around the queen's chambers, drawing out subtle pink and orange hues within the stone.

  "What do you think, Sarah?" Queen Gabrielle held up a newly embroidered vei,l and Sarah paused in her effort to arrange her mistress’s hair. Pale pink and blue flowers traced a delicate path around the edges of the material.

  "It's beautiful. Verity will love it."

  "I hope so. Now all we have to do is find her a husband." The queen smiled. Sixteen was a little young to be married, but as her daughter would one day be queen, she had already started the search for a suitable husband. Plenty of noble (and otherwise) families had offered their sons, but so far Gabrielle was not convinced someone better couldn't be found.

  "What about you? I hear Petro is back in the city."

  Sarah blushed and hurriedly finished the braid she was working on. "Yes. I saw him last night, actually. He’s leaving again in a few days. I doubt he'll ever ask me."

  The queen's lady-in-waiting was thirty and had never been married. She was a beautiful woman, slightly built with long, blonde hair. It wasn't as if no one had ever been interested; she was just too shy. The one man she had developed an affectionate relationship with was Petro, the travelling salesman. He went from town to town, city to city, selling cheap baubles to vain women, although it was also said his selection of fabrics were some of the finest.

  There was a quiet tap, tap, tap, and Gabrielle jumped. Sarah approached the locked door. "Who's there?"

  "Hermas, my lady." Sarah unlocked the door, allowing the old man to enter. Ever since the night, seventeen years ago, when Leon had attacked Gabrielle, she had always made sure her door was locked from the inside.

  Hermas had been chief advisor to the king's father and then the king. Gabrielle remembered a time when he cut a noble figure: much taller than her, with thick, black hair. As far as mo
st knew, he was now retired. He stooped to stand at an equal height as the queen, thinning, white hair gently touching his shoulders. He had served the family for most of his life, and had been given quarters in the castle after his ‘retirement’. Hermas was considered part of the family and was like a grandfather to Verity. The queen loved the gentle, intelligent man and was one of the only people who knew his senility to be a well-contrived act.

  The queen stood and offered him her hands. "How have you been, crazy old man?" Gabrielle was smiling.

  "Have you seen my cat?"

  "You don't have a cat."

  "Yes I do. She can talk you know. Maybe I'll find her in the garden at sunset chasing the mice. Sorry to bother you." He bowed as he walked backward to the door. The cryptic conversation was a way of life, because anyone, including Leon, could be listening. The truth was, Hermas was not retired; he secretly worked for the queen, collecting information and keeping an eye on people she didn't trust. The ambiguous conversation told Gabrielle to be in the garden at sunset.

  "What a funny old man. You really are nice to him."

  "He's like a father to me. From the day I came here as a nobleman’s daughter he treated me like a queen. Just because he's a little crazy, doesn't mean he doesn't deserve our respect. He achieved a lot of good in his lifetime."

  "I hope you treat me that well when I've turned into a weird old spinster and can no longer serve you, My Lady."

  "What are you worried about? I'm older than you. With a bit of luck you'll be the one who has to mop up my dribble." Sarah screwed up her face.

  There was a loud knock at the door. Sarah rose again, "Who's there?"

  "The King. I've come to see my lovely wife." Sarah opened the door and curtsied as the king entered.

  "Please leave us, Sarah. I won't be needing you until mid afternoon."

  "Yes, My Lady." She curtsied again, shutting the door behind her.

  Gabrielle stood and met her husband’s embrace. "Why must you always lock that door, my love? It offends me that you don't feel safe in our home." Gabrielle shrugged but offered no answer. She had never told her husband what his brother had done, because other than Leon's threat to kill her, which she never doubted, she knew the trust and love Edmund felt for his brother. Whilst she knew the king loved her, she wasn't willing to test his loyalties without any proof of what had happened. When she had given birth to Verity, everyone naturally thought the child was the king's, and only two people in the castle knew it might not be. She had lived with that truth day after day. Despite the possibility of who her father may be, she could not help but love her daughter, a fact which made her feel immense guilt.

  The king looked at his wife, waiting for an answer to his oft-asked question. Gabrielle hoped her reply would satisfy him. "You are so trusting, my love. Not everyone loves the king and his family you know. There are always those who’ll try to harm us. I wouldn’t be the first queen to be targeted. It was you who told me about the kidnapping of your great grandmother, Queen Lurline."

  The king acknowledged her reasons with a small nod. "Yes, well you are ever the cautious one, and I would rather see you safe and happy. If that locked door saves your life even once, it’s worth my slight offence." He kissed her forehead.

  "I'm so glad you feel that way."

  "No need to get all funny with me."

  "Would I do anything to upset his highness?" She looked up at him through long, dark lashes. He laughed and kissed her mouth. He slowly unwrapped her arms from his waist and stepped back to the door.

  “That was a quick visit. Are you sure you won’t stay longer?” Gabrielle pouted.

  "Off to talk trade with an emissary from Wyrden. Apparently a hailstorm has ruined seventy percent of their fruit crop and they want some of ours. Their beef has always been quite good, however I hate to say that Veresia’s population are close to being vegetarians. I just don't know if I can make my subjects eat all that beef. There’s only so much I can order people to do." He winked and rubbed his hands together. In most other countries the minister for trade would conduct negotiations, but his love of economics drove the king to participate in such dealings whenever he had time.

  "You bad, bad man." Gabrielle shook her head. He was usually known for his generosity, however, his competitive nature sometimes got the better of him. After he left, a spring in his step, Gabrielle re-locked the door. There were two guards standing at the doors to the reception room that led to her bed chamber. Unfortunately, Gabrielle knew the guards would not only obey her husband but Leon as well, so she left nothing to chance.

  Gabrielle moved to the window. Her chambers overlooked the east gardens, numerous fields, and in the distance, the river, which flowed to the Pearl Sea. The ancient stone wall that separated the castle from the vista was as tall as ten men. There was a system of underground stone tunnels, which diverted some of the water to the city. Her husband’s great, great grandfather had built a large dam under the city for use in any protracted siege to guard against the water being poisoned or cut off. The castle and city were well protected.

  Winter was ending. The days had started to warm up, although nights and early mornings were bitterly cold. The queen happily noticed newly-formed buds on the Azaris tree that would explode into purple flowers when spring finally matured, and down in the garden beds small green shoots were fighting their way out of the near frozen earth. For a moment she forgot her troubles, imagining the colour and warmth spring would bring.

  Unseen by the queen, the young boy stood behind a wall, in a secret corridor. He looked through a strategically placed crack in time to see the king leave after his short visit. So far there was nothing to report. The only people who had visited the queen were the crazy man and the king. Tired after standing there for the past hour, he wished he were tall enough to sit on a chair and look through the stupid crack, but he wasn’t. Although he was supposed to make sure he didn’t miss anything, he didn't think it would hurt to sit on the floor and rest his feet for five minutes. He sat on the ground in the dark. Nobody used torches in the secret passageway lest someone see the light shining from any number of spy holes. He wasn't a timid boy by nature, however sitting in the pitch black was not his idea of fun. At least he wasn't hungry these days. Ever since he had started spying for Prince Leon he was never hungry. And he had a comfortable bed to sleep on, even if it was in the stables.

  He carried out odds and ends for the prince, things he knew Leon didn’t want anyone else knowing about—especially his brother. His days and nights consisted of running secret messages to certain people the prince did not wish to be seen to be associated with, spying on others, and occasionally taking a beating simply because the prince enjoyed inflicting pain. The boy figured a few scars were a small price to pay. If the great prince had not saved him from the brothel where he had lived with his mother, he would have eventually been sold as a slave, or worse. He knew of other boys who were sold to men for their perverted pleasures. He shuddered. Anything was better than that.

  His mother had been excited to receive the gold piece it cost Leon to buy him. A tear came to his eye when he thought of his mother. He hadn't seen her since the night Leon had taken him, which, by his reckoning, was about six months ago. He dragged the back of his hand across his eye to remove some offending moisture. He was too old for that nonsense: ten-year-old boys weren't supposed to cry, especially not for someone who had never loved them. The young boy knew his mother wished he had never been born; she had told him so every day. He had never received the hugs or kisses he had seen other parents bestow on their children. Not wanting to wallow, he stood up and resumed his position, eye to the crack. He hoped someone worthwhile would turn up or his afternoon was going to be very boring and Leon would have an excuse to inflict another thrashing. He stood and waited.

  For a moment the boy thought his waiting had paid off. On sunset the queen emerged. She spoke to her guards. "I'm going for dinner. I will be back with my husband later." The guards nodd
ed. Well that's just great, nothing. He had stood here for half the day, and there was nothing to report. His stomach grumbled. He had been told to stay there all day, and for Leon that meant until after the queen had returned and gone to bed. Remembering the oat biscuits he had pocketed from the kitchen that morning, he grinned. Although ravenous, he savoured his two biscuits, chewing every mouthful ten times.

  He decided he could sit down again seeing as the queen was gone. He was just settling to the ground when he heard soft footsteps. He jumped up, hoping he hadn't been caught sitting on the job. "Ah, there you are. I've decided you can have the night off. Follow me." The boy did as he was told—and hoped the only thing waiting for him would be dinner.

  ***

  Gabrielle wandered around the garden, pretending to admire the trees that were sprouting new growth. She headed toward a large maple and stood where she could enjoy the sunset. Hermas silently appeared at her shoulder. "Good evening, my queen." He executed a small bow.

  "Good eve to you, good sir. Did you find your cat?"

  "Yes. In fact she was hiding in this tree, but I think you've scared her away again."

  "I'm sure she'll be back. Why don't you enjoy the sunset with me." Hermas took a quick look around and lowered his voice.

  "My nephew is up to something. One of his hounds was sniffing around at King Suklar’s court. It seems some arrangements are being made."