Tomorrow's Kingdom

by Maureen Fergus

  And since they could not possibly scale the cliffs, there was nowhere to go but into the treacherous sea caves.

  “COME ON!” she shouted, grabbing Azriel’s hand and tugging him toward the base of the caves.

  His lips white and his blue eyes dimmer than she’d ever seen them, Azriel nodded and wordlessly staggered after her.

  “CLIMB!” she shouted, pointing to the lowest cave and giving him a little shove to get him going.

  As best he could, Azriel did as she bid. It wrenched at Persephone’s guts to watch him stumble and slip, and to see the rocks in his wake smeared red with his blood, but she shoved and prodded and shouted until at last they reached the mouth of the lowest cave. Wishing they could have climbed higher but knowing they were lucky to have made it this far, Persephone pushed Azriel forward into the darkness. As she started in after him, she felt a searing pain in the back of her thigh. Looking around, she saw that she’d taken an arrow in the leg. And judging by the markings, it wasn’t just any arrow, it was the kind of arrow New Men used to use when they went hunting Gypsies.

  It was a poisoned arrow.

  Without giving herself time to think about how much it was going to hurt, Persephone grabbed hold of the shaft with her free hand and yanked hard. The groan she emitted as she did so was horrible even to her own ears, and it was not just caused by the pain of the extraction. It was caused by the burning sensation that had already begun spreading outward from the wound—and by the knowledge of the fate that awaited her when the poison took hold.

  The despair that might have overwhelmed her at that moment was only held in check by the sound of Baby Finn’s plaintive cry. He breathed, she breathed and Azriel breathed—and as long as there was breath, there was hope.

  “Come on, Azriel,” said Persephone, trying to sound confident in spite of the fact that she could hear the nonetoo-distant sound of Mordecai shrieking at Murdock to climb faster. “We won’t go so far into the cave that we can’t find our way out again. We’ll just go far enough to find somewhere to hide.”

  But like so many things in her short, hard life, things didn’t work out the way Persephone had planned or hoped, because they’d hardly taken ten steps into the cave before they were swallowed up by darkness. With the half-hysterical thought that this was probably why they were called the treacherous sea caves, Persephone tried to retrace their steps in the hope of finding another, betterlit path. But she could not and before long she knew that even in the unlikely event that Mordecai and his trusted henchman lost Azriel’s blood trail, she and her little family were lost in more ways than one.

  During her time in the mines, Persephone’s worst nightmare had been that she would die alone, lost in the darkness. She knew now that worse by far would be to die lost in the darkness with those she loved best in the world by her side—to listen to the fading cries of her child and to the terrible, rasping breaths of her dying husband.

  Trying hard not to notice the unnatural thirst that was beginning to build in her throat—and also to remember her old promise to herself that she’d never again lie down and wait for Death to claim her—Persephone gave Baby Finn a fierce kiss and then reached up to brush from her face several strands of drying hair that were being ruffled by the breeze.

  Then she froze.

  The breeze!

  Heart pounding, Persephone gave Azriel a firm push in the direction of the breeze. As he began to stagger forward, Persephone could hear the sounds of their pursuers drawing ever nearer, but she could also feel the breeze growing stronger, and she could see the darkness thinning, and so she found herself beginning to hope against hope that they might actually escape and reach help in time to save them all.

  Unfortunately, it was this hope that caused her to drive Azriel onward so relentlessly that when the tunnel curved sharply and ended without warning high in the wall of what appeared to be a vast cavern, he was going too fast to stop.

  The only thing Persephone heard after she screamed was the thud of his body hitting the ground below.

  Far below.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  PERSEPHONE WAS HALFWAY down the narrow dirt incline that hugged the cavern wall when she saw Azriel’s broken body slowly slide into the glowing tidal pool at the bottom of the cavern. Frantically running over to the pool, she set Baby Finn down on the ground a safe distance away and then jumped into the water in the hope that she might save Azriel from drowning.

  Just before she hit the water, she noticed the banyan tree growing at the water’s edge.

  And then she was in the water and tingling strangely all over—most especially at the back of her thigh where she’d been hit by the arrow.

  And then, after what seemed like a very long time, she was rising to the surface—and so was Azriel. And, unbelievably, he was no longer dying and broken but alive and more beautiful than ever.

  Before Persephone could even begin to process what this meant, Azriel gave a shout of alarm and lunged for the edge of the pool behind her. He was fast, but General Murdock was faster—so fast that by the time Persephone had turned around, he already had the baby cradled in his arm.

  “Move and I will dash his brains out,” he said placidly.

  Neither Persephone nor Azriel moved—they simply waited and watched as Mordecai grunted and lurched his way down the dirt incline and over to the edge of the pool.

  Persephone watched the former regent’s expression change from rage to amazement when he saw that Azriel was standing in the pool looking remarkably well for a man who’d recently been stabbed in the belly with a sixinch blade. Mordecai’s eyes snapped to the banyan tree at the same instant as his hand flew to the locket around his neck—the locket that Persephone had given him, the locket containing the sprig that had never withered.

  Mordecai’s dark-eyed gaze returned to Azriel. “Out of the water, both of you,” he ordered.

  Mindful of the General’s threat to harm the baby, Persephone and Azriel wordlessly did as they’d been bid.

  “Lift up your shirt, cockroach,” commanded Mordecai.

  When Azriel lifted up his bloodstained shirt to reveal not a gaping belly wound but the white scar of such a wound long-since healed, Mordecai gasped and slapped his gnarled hand against his withered thigh.

  “Of course!” he cried, his handsome face alight with something close to joy. “It was always assumed that Balthazar discovered the healing pool after a long sea journey to somewhere else. But it was after a long sea journey from somewhere else. He was returning home! His ship was wrecked, and his entire crew lost in a storm exactly like the one that rages this day! And the sea itself was the frothing monster that chased him into the caves!”

  Mordecai threw back his head and laughed like a boy. Then he quickly removed his cloak and robe. And after taking a last look at the poor crippled body that had ever caused him so much suffering, he awkwardly slid into the pool.

  He stayed submerged for so long that Persephone began to think (well, to hope) that he’d drowned. Just as she was about to suggest this possibility to General Murdock in the hope that he’d set Baby Finn down and go investigate, however, Mordecai burst to the surface.

  “I am well, Murdock!” he cried, sounding so utterly exhilarated that in spite of everything, Persephone found herself strangely moved. “I am whole! I am finally as I was ever meant to be!” Wading over to the water’s edge, he planted two strong hands on the bank and hoisted himself out of the pool as easily as Azriel might have done.

  Persephone could not help staring in amazement. The once skinny, twisted legs were now long and powerful; the once sunken chest was exquisitely muscled; the uneven shoulders were broad and straight.

  It was a breathtaking demonstration of the power of the pool.

  “You like what you see, don’t you, Your Majesty?” asked Mordecai slyly, holding his hands wide as though to give her a better look.

  When Persephone said nothing, only looked away, Mordecai laughed loudly before wagging his finger at
her, briskly striding over and pulling on the billowing black robe he’d been wearing beneath Murdock’s cloak.

  Then he clapped his hands together and said, “To business!”

  “To business?” said Persephone warily.

  “For starters, you’ll give me that little dagger you’re so fond of carrying around,” said Mordecai, holding out his hand toward her.

  When Persephone hesitated, Mordecai gave a meaningful look in the direction of the baby and the man who’d threatened to dash out his brains.

  With a glance at Azriel, who nodded, Persephone handed over the dagger.

  “Good choice,” commended Mordecai. “Now, Your Majesty, my original plan was to murder you, your husband and your child and then disappear before I could be brought to justice, but that has changed. Indeed, everything has changed! I will still kill you, your husband and your child, of course, but I am not going anywhere.” Mordecai paused briefly to stretch and flex and admire his beautiful body. “Now that I’ve found the Pool of Genezing, there is not a nobleman in Glyndoria who will not prostrate himself at my feet for a single vial of these healing waters. And when I inform the great lords that the royal bloodline had been stamped out for good, they will trample each other in their eagerness to anoint me king that they might stave off disease and death! Noblewomen will flop down on their backs before me—by the gods, I will beget an army of half-noble bastard sons!” Clapping General Murdock on the back so hard that the General nearly dropped the baby, Mordecai said, “Don’t you think I will make a splendid king, Murdock?”

  “I do, Your Grace,” said General Murdock, sounding genuinely pleased for his master.

  Mordecai briskly nodded the head that no longer seemed to sit so heavy upon his neck. “And I will not just be a king but a warrior king, Murdock. I will learn to wield a sword in a manner that shall make those who once mocked me for being a cripple tremble with fear.” He gasped theatrically as though he’d just been struck by a most marvellous idea. “Why, I could begin practising right now, Murdock! Give me your sword!”

  With a thin smile, the General obeyed.

  “Now, set down the brat,” ordered Mordecai, flourishing the sword this way and that.

  The very instant Murdock had done as he’d been bid, Persephone and Azriel dove toward Baby Finn. With the speed of a striking snake, Mordecai slit Murdock’s throat and set the bloody sword tip against the baby’s belly.

  “HE’S DEAD IF YOU MOVE ANOTHER INCH!” Mordecai screamed at Persephone and Azriel, stopping them in their tracks. Pressing the tip of the blade a little harder against the baby’s belly to show them that he meant business, Mordecai looked down at the faithful servant to whom he’d entrusted his life so many times and calmly said, “Apologies, Murdock, but of late you’ve rather annoyed me with your cleverness.”

  Murdock gurgled and clawed at his slit throat as he tried to drag himself toward the healing pool.

  “Moreover,” continued Mordecai, “upon reflection, I think I’d prefer to be the only one who knows the location of the pool whose waters, sadly, are never going to heal you.”

  Mordecai punctuated this statement by placing his bare foot on the General’s sloping brow, effectively stopping his progress just inches from the pool. Cocking his head to one side as though listening to beautiful music, Mordecai waited until his general had stopped gurgling and the only sounds to be heard were the distant howl of the storm and the steady drip of the dead henchman’s blood splashing into the pool that would have saved him.

  At length, Mordecai turned to Azriel and said, “Pick up the body, cockroach. We’ll take it with us.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Azriel as he casually shifted into a fighting stance.

  In response to Azriel’s words or his change in stance or both, Mordecai applied just enough pressure to the sword that the tip pierced the skin of Baby’s Finn’s belly, and a tiny trickle of blood appeared.

  Blue eyes blazing with a combination of hatred and helplessness, Azriel stalked over to the edge of the pool and knelt down beside the corpse of the General.

  As he did so, Mordecai turned to Persephone and said, “Before he hoists Murdock onto those big, broad shoulders of his, go rip several strips of cloth from the General’s shirt and take the pouch of embers from his belt. Break a branch off the banyan tree, tie one of the cloth strips around the end of the branch and light it from the embers. I am going to need a torch if I’m to follow the blood trail back out of here once I am finished with you.”

  “You are well and whole,” said Persephone desperately. “Isn’t that—”

  “Enough?” said Mordecai as he tossed the sword to one side, scooped up Baby Finn and pressed Persephone’s own dagger to his little throat. “No, Your Majesty, it is not.”

  He began whistling then—such a cheery sound that Persephone shuddered as she set about fashioning the torch.

  After she’d stuffed the remaining cloth strips in her pocket and the torch was lit, Mordecai used the dagger to gesture toward the dirt incline at the back of the cavern and ordered her and Azriel to start walking.

  With a despairing look at Azriel, Persephone did as Mordecai ordered. She wanted to resist him—wanted to fly at him and claw out his eyes—but she knew that if she made even the slightest move toward him that Baby Finn was dead.

  And so she walked.

  She walked up the incline and walked into the tunnel. She turned this way and that in response to Mordecai’s commands; she marked the tunnel wall with the General’s blood whenever Mordecai ordered her to do so.

  “Stop!” he said at last.

  Persephone looked around the smooth-walled, deadend cave, knowing it would be her tomb—and Azriel’s tomb and the baby’s tomb. Pushing down her rising panic, she turned to Mordecai and said, “If you will let them go, I will do—”

  “Anything?” he suggested with a broad smile. “Yes, well, the time for that has come and gone, Your Majesty. I confess there was a time when the thought of you tormented—no, plagued—me, but that time is past. Set the torch there, by that big, flat rock. Then, once your dear husband has rid himself of his burden and gotten to his knees where he has ever belonged, bind his wrists and ankles. And mind that you bind them well, Your Majesty, or I will slice off your son’s tiny feet.”

  With shaking hands, Persephone jammed the torch between two smaller rocks on the floor and then bound Azriel’s wrists and ankles. When she was done, Mordecai— who’d since walked over to the flat rock and set Baby Finn down upon it—coyly crooked his finger at her. Heart beating very hard at the thought that this might be her chance, Persephone walked over to him. She was so close to Baby Finn that she could have reached out and run her fingers through his downy hair, but she did not.

  “Give me the last of those cloth strips,” said Mordecai, holding out his free hand. “Then turn around and put your hands together.”

  Wordlessly, Persephone handed him the cloth strips and turned around. Then, the instant she heard him set down the dagger to free up his hands, she flung her elbow toward his face. There was an audible crack as it hit him in the cheek—and another one as Mordecai jerked her around and clouted her across the face with all of his considerable might.

  “Bitch!” he snarled, throwing her to the ground face first while she was still reeling from the shock of the blow. Dropping on top of her so heavily that it drove the air from her lungs, he quickly bound her wrists. Then he rolled her onto her back and gave her a hot kiss before standing up and kicking her across the floor.

  “I’ve brought you, your husband, your son and the General here because I do not wish to see or smell your rotting corpses every time I visit my new pool, Your Majesty,” he panted as he stared down at her. “Using your dagger, I shall inflict a mortal wound upon your son. As he lies dying, I will make the worthless cockroach watch while I ravish you. Then I will make you watch while I scalp him. Then—and only then!—will I grant you the mercy of death.”

  Mordecai smiled at Per
sephone and lifted the dagger high so that she could see the blade glinting in the flickering torchlight. Then, without further ado, he turned and strode toward Baby Finn.

  Half-wild with terror and nearly choking on her rage, Persephone screamed, “MY GYPSY HUSBAND AND SON ARE WORTH A THOUSAND OF YOU, YOU PATHETIC LOWBORN NOBODY!”

  At these words, Mordecai let out a strangled cry and whirled around, his eyes mad with fury. As he did so, his robe billowed out so far that the hem brushed the flame of the flickering torch.

  If Murdock’s cloak had not been so long and so well made, Mordecai’s robe might have been damp enough to keep it from catching fire.

  But alas for him, it was not, and so before Persephone— or, indeed, Mordecai—realized what was happening, his robe, his hair and even his skin were ablaze. Shrieking horribly, the former regent staggered this way and that before falling to the ground and rolling and writhing until the last of the flames had been snuffed out.

  Stunned, Persephone stared at the moaning, smouldering, unrecognizable thing that had been her enemy.

  “The dagger,” said Azriel.

  Nodding jerkily, Persephone staggered to her feet, skittered around Mordecai and awkwardly picked up the dagger in her yet-bound hands. In a trice, she’d sliced through the cloth strips that bound Azriel, and he’d done the same for her.

  Then she had Baby Finn in her arms, and Azriel had his arms around them both and all was—

  “Pleeeeease,” came a hoarse whisper from the floor of the cave. “Don’t … leave me … like … this … take me … take me back …”

  “Let’s go,” said Azriel in a hard voice.

  “Mercy,” gasped Mordecai, stretching his burnt claw of a hand out toward Persephone. “Mercyyyyy.”

  Persephone stared at him, knowing that there was no one in the kingdom who deserved mercy less—but also knowing that her kingdom would be better served by having him publicly tried and executed, that she might show that she intended to be a just queen, come what may.