Mad Lord Lucian

by West, Shay

  Senda wanted to storm into the castle and demand to see for himself the letter Jaenet had sent to Suasor. Anali enchanted the letter so that Lucian would see what the evil Mystic wanted him to see. “Senda, Lucian requires your presence right away.”

  Senda turned to the scullery maid and nodded curtly. She scurried away, refusing to look at the gallows or the bit of rope that still swayed in the breeze.

  As he walked slowly back to the castle, he took note of the people back at their daily tasks as though a man hadn't just been hanged. Hanged for a crime he didn't commit. Only Senda knew the truth. As he walked under the raised portcullis, the anger started to wane and fear replaced it. Will Lucian demand my head next? Senda did not have a wife or children. He had a brother that lived somewhere on the mainland but they hadn't spoken in many years. Senda was not even sure where his brother lived, or if he was married or had a family.

  If I die today, no one will miss me. That thought saddened Senda more than he expected. His life had been filled with serving his Lord.

  His worry grew as he drew closer to Lucian's bedchamber. The guard, someone new this time, snapped to attention, and opened the door. Senda tried to slow his galloping heart. He braced himself for the Mystic to grab him, or to shoot some bit of magic at him and fry him where he stood.

  Lucian sat alone in the solar. There was no sign of the Mystic. He raised his eyes to meet Senda's. “I sent Anali away while we chat.” Lucian stood slowly. “I am disappointed in you, Senda. I never thought one of my own people would betray me.”

  “I never betrayed you. I admit, I went to Jaenet after overhearing you and Anali talking about Suasor's designs for your throne and about letting me go. The Mystic is filling your head with poisonous lies. The letter Jaenet wrote said nothing about troops. I was there when she wrote it.”

  “I saw the letter with my own eyes! Do you think I can be so easily deceived?”

  “My Lord, the Mystic has done something to you…”

  “Yes! He has made me well and strong again. And he has opened my eyes to the treachery surrounding me.”

  “I am grateful to Anali for curing you. But he has poisoned you against your own subjects. Surely you see that?”

  “I see the truth! Anali warned me that others would deny the truth, but he gave me the power to see.” Lucian turned to Senda, his eyes burning in his gaunt face. “I am afraid that I can't trust you any longer. You have one week to leave the castle.” Lucian turned without another word and walked away.

  SIX

  SENDA COULDN'T BEAR TO SLEEP in Lucian's bedchamber so he grabbed his few belongings and asked Lucian's new manservant to bring his pallet to the kitchens. Senda did not speak as they made their way down to the first floor of the castle. Word spread quickly. Everyone knew of Senda's shame. I need a plan. He wished there was someone he could talk to, someone who could help him. The last person I talked to ended up dead, as did her husband. He knew he should depart the island, but he couldn't leave Lucian in the Mystic's grasp.

  He needed to find work with one of the other Lords or Ladies on the island so he could still be close and keep an eye on Anali, although what he was going to do about the Mystic was still a mystery. I have to try to stop him.

  Neli was none too pleased to have the disgraced manservant staying in her kitchens, but Senda knew she didn't have the heart to turn him out. “I will only be here to sleep. During the day I will be out trying to find work.”

  Neli grunted and turned back to her kettle. “I hear old Lord Mandor is looking for someone.” She continued with her stirring.

  Senda thanked her and decided to go talk to Lord Mandor after lunch. The sooner he could leave the castle, the better. He did not feel safe being under the same roof as the Mystic.

  After a quick bite, he made for Lord Mandor's home. It was just down the road from Suasor and Jaenet's manor house. Senda felt a pang of guilt and sadness as he passed the house. Many of the servants were about their duties, having nothing else to do until relatives of Suasor were notified to take possession of the home.

  The Mandor manor looked much like all the others: constructed of the dark granite the island itself was made of, single level, stables, and courtyard. Lord Mandor was known for his love of exotic sculptures, and these pieces were strewn on either side of the entry and inside the house.

  Dreban, chief chamberlain of Mandor's household, offered him a position as a butler. Although the buttery wasn't the hardest work, it did require heavy lifting and many hours standing over vats and barrels, brewing ale and beer, knowing what brew to serve with which course, and serving at each meal.

  He hired you. Do not grumble.

  Senda returned to Lucian's castle, gathered his things from the kitchen, swallowing the lump in his throat as he said goodbye to Neli and the rest of the staff. However, there were some who seemed almost glad he was leaving. They stared at him with suspicious eyes, whispering together as he bid Neli farewell.

  The Mystic's presence is poisoning everyone.

  Senda was even more determined to save his Lord from the clutches of Anali. He was the only one who seemed immune to the lies and suspicion the man spread. I must do something.

  He hurried back to Mandor's. The thought of running into Lucian or Anali made him acutely uncomfortable. He met a few other servants about their nightly duties. They nodded in greeting, already aware of the new butler in Mandor's employ.

  As he lay on his pallet, his mind raced, trying to come up with a plan to stop Anali's corruption.

  SEVEN

  SENDA MADE SURE TO BE UP before dawn. He did not want to be late for his first day. A few of the other servants were in the kitchens, putting wood on the fires, grinding wheat to make bread, cutting steaks off great haunches of antlered horse, and slicing vegetables.

  “Come quickly! Lucian has arrested Lord Byron's entire house-hold!” A stable boy ran into the kitchen, a look of horror on his face.

  Senda and the others rushed out to see what was happening. The streets teemed with people, all rushing toward the castle. As he drew closer, he could hear desperate, terrified screams. Lucian's soldiers were hauling dozens of men, women, and even children to the gallows.

  This can't be happening! Senda tried to move forward, but instead of Anali stopping him with magic, the soldiers did the job. They had fanned out in front of the gallows, preventing anyone from getting to within a few feet. Lucian needn't have bothered. The crowd was not moving forward to try to stop the hangings; they were trying to get a better view.

  Lucian was notably absent from the gallows. Senda squinted his eyes against the early morning sun just peeking over the castle. Where is Lucian?

  Anali climbed the stairs, basking in the cheers of the crowd. He held up his hands and waited for the noise to die down. “Lucian has put me in charge of rooting out the disloyalty that has festered on this island for too long. His heart is breaking at the thought that his own people have conspired against him. But no more! I shall use my gift of magic to find those that mean Lucian harm and bring them to justice.”

  The crowd went wild, screaming for the blood of the traitors. The people standing on the gallows huddled in groups, trying to shield the children from the taunts and objects being thrown at them. Their eyes tried to meet those they had once called friends and neighbors, pleading with them to listen to reason.

  Their pleas fell on deaf ears. The hangman had several soldiers bind the hands of Lord Byron, his wife Laylee, and everyone in his employ. The women screamed and clawed at the soldiers as they grabbed their children. Senda cried out as the men smacked the women with gauntleted fists, shattering cheeks and breaking jaws.

  The men strained against their bonds, cords standing out on their necks, using every bit of strength trying to get to the women. The children grew more distressed at the sight of all the blood and cries of agony from their mothers.

  The soldiers went about their business, deaf and blind to what was happening around them. After they finis
hed binding everyone's hands, they took the children first and placed five of them over the trapdoors.

  Lord Byron was on his knees, begging someone, anyone, to help. His wife stood stunned and silent by his side, eyes staring straight ahead. She never blinked, even when the soldiers shoved past her.

  The drums rolled. Senda jumped when the trapdoors swung out from under the feet of the five children. Tears fell from his eyes as the crowd cheered, screaming for the others to be hanged.

  Senda pushed through the people standing behind him. He stumbled to an open space, his stomach roiling and bile rising in his throat. At the sound of the lever once again sending another five to their deaths, Senda vomited, tears springing to his eyes, his soul aching for those that had been wrongfully killed.

  He spat and wiped his mouth, lurching to his feet, trying to quell the nausea that threatened to double him over again. Unable to bear hearing the awful sound of the lever and the trapdoors, he walked back to Mandor's home. Senda made his way to his room and barely made it inside before being overcome by the shakes. He sat down hard on his pallet and sobbed until he thought his very soul would break.

  When the tears finally dried, he went back to the buttery. He could not afford to have Mandor or Dreban angry with him. Although he had been Lucian's manservant for many years, he knew what most of the duties of the various servants entailed.

  Senda lost himself in moving ale and wine barrels. He shook his head, quite certain the previous butler had been mad. Why would he stack the wine barrels so precariously? And why does he have ale barrels mixed in with the cider?

  Hours later, he heard the kitchen staff returning. He tried to close his ears to their voices, applauding Anali for taking the initiative in rooting out the deception on their island. How can they believe that madman?

  Dreban ordered the staff to prepare Mandor's favorite lunch and to serve it on the large covered patio in the courtyard. Senda asked the head cook what she would be preparing.

  “Mandor always asks for roasted duck when he's in a good mood.”

  Senda nodded, heading back to the buttery. He retrieved the barrel of a nice white burgundy that would go nicely with the roasted duck. He grabbed several trays and filled them with goblets, not entirely sure how many he would be serving. Two chilled pitchers completed his work.

  He followed the kitchen staff to the patio, loaded down with platters of food. Lord Mandor was dining with several other Lords and Ladies. Senda and the others served them their lunch and drink, waiting off to the side while they ate each course, ready for a second serving if anyone indicated they wanted more.

  “Terrible business this morning,” Lord Mandor said as he sipped at the leek and mushroom soup.

  “I always knew Byron was up to something. The man has shifty eyes.” Lady Elise sniffed delicately.

  Senda held his tongue, but he wanted to scream at them. Am I the only one that knows the truth?

  They applauded Anali and his efforts all through lunch. Senda wanted to vomit. These pompous asses were celebrating the deaths of innocent women and children. Every fiber of his being cried out for him to do something. But he kept his mouth shut and served the wine, gritting his teeth when one of them would laugh, recounting how the traitors had danced on the ends of the rope.

  After lunch, Senda joined the other kitchen staff for a quick bite of leftovers. Then they were busy cleaning the dishes and the kitchen.

  “Good work, everyone. You have earned a few hours of free time,” Dreban announced. The staff cheered their good fortune.

  Senda wasn't sure what to do. Without the hustle and bustle, the horrible deeds of Anali came crashing in. Maybe I will go for a walk.

  As he left Mandor's estate, he saw smoke rising in the distance. He gasped, his heart galloping in his chest. But something was wrong. None of the other folks in the streets seemed the least bit concerned about the fire.

  Senda grabbed the nearest bystander. “What is that, and why hasn't anyone sounded the alarm?”

  “That was Lord Byron's estate. Anali ordered it burned soon after the hangings were done. Along with the bodies of the traitors. Said they didn't deserve to be properly buried.” The man gave Senda a strange look before pulling his arm from the servant's grasp.

  Senda nodded absently, unable to take his eyes from the black smoke. He walked toward the fire in a stupor. A few people gathered, watching the man's home burn to the ground. Senda wondered how the fire was being contained to Byron's home. There was a slight breeze, and yet no embers drifted to the neighboring manors and businesses. He spotted Anali and shrank back into the shadows of an alley. The Mystic was obviously using magic to burn the house and was able to control the blaze.

  Senda had seen enough. He walked back to Mandor's and spent the rest of the afternoon in his room, lying on his back on his pallet, trying to think of some way to stop the Mystic from killing everyone on the island.

  EIGHT

  SEVERAL DAYS PASSED without any more hangings and burnings. Senda almost believed that the evildoings were over. His life took on a familiar routine and he lost himself and forgot about Lucian and Anali.

  However, many of the servants began to spread strange tales of the walking dead. They claimed to have seen Lord Suasor himself, roaming near his estate, crying out for Jaenet, cursing Lucian and Anali. Senda scoffed, convinced these were merely stories meant to keep the gossip alive.

  The tales grew more and more frequent as the weeks passed. Several people had turned up missing and their deaths blamed on the ghosts of those that had been killed. Senda thought they had gotten scared and perhaps left the island. The idea of ghosts hurting the living was preposterous.

  Soon, no one would go on any errands after nightfall. Mandor tried punishment, but his people refused to leave the safety of the manor after sunset. He tried to threaten them, but to no avail. Even the thought of being let go was not enough to force them to leave the castle.

  The stories of the missing became too frequent for Senda to ignore. He thought the Mystic was behind the disappearances rather than some spirit. He tried to puzzle out why the man was here on the island and what he gained by healing Lucian, then turning him against his own people.

  One night, he decided to go see for himself what was happening in the streets after darkness fell. If I can prove Anali is behind these disappearances, then maybe Lucian will send the man back to the swamps. The streets were eerily silent. There were no people heading for a tavern, or servants about their duties, or couples out for a stroll. Not even the feral dogs and cats roamed the neighborhoods.

  Senda decided to walk to Suasor's manor to see if he could spot the spirit of the dead man. As he approached, his skin prickled and his hair stood on end. He stopped, afraid to move any closer. Oh, stop it! Are you a man or a child?

  The home was bathed in shadows. Not even the twin moons cast enough light to keep the darkness at bay.

  As Senda turned to leave, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun and screamed when he caught sight of something pale white dancing across the ground. He tried to run but was rooted to the spot, his muscles unable to obey the command his brain was sending.

  The white mist coalesced into a figure that bore a striking resemblance to Lord Suasor. The man's flesh hung from his bones, and his eyes burned vermilion fire. His mouth hung open in a silent wail of despair, and his fingers raked the flesh from his face.

  Suddenly, the ghost turned, and his eyes flashed. Senda's leg flooded with warmth as his bladder let go. He watched with increasing horror and dread as the spirit of Suasor drifted closer.

  It has to be some trick of Anali's! Senda wanted to look around for any sign of the Mystic, but he was too frightened to take his eyes off Suasor. The man hovered just a few feet away. It pointed at Senda. Its mouth worked as though it was speaking, and yet no sound emerged from the spirits rotten lips. Senda could tell that the spirit was angry. Perhaps he blames me for his death?

  Senda cried out as th
e ghoul flew directly at him. His body grew icy cold, and he couldn't breathe. Spots danced in front of eyes. In a heartbeat, the cold was gone, and Senda hit his knees, shivering, and gasping for breath. He sat for a time, ignoring the stench of urine assailing his nostrils. He was afraid to look up, afraid he would see more spirits in the streets.

  Knowing he couldn't stay there all night, Senda forced himself to his feet, swaying a little as he stood. He kept his eyes averted as he made his way back to Mandor's home. He sneaked to his room, changed out of his soiled clothing, and tugged on a fresh cotton nightshirt. He lay on his pallet, blanket pulled to his chin, eyes darting about the room, certain the spirit of Suasor was going to fly through the wall any minute to exact his revenge.

  * * *

  The next morning, Senda awoke with a jolt, barely holding a scream in check. It took several minutes to slow his racing heart.

  The dream seemed so real. He had seen the predatory spirits of the dead sucking the life out of the people of the island, tossing the empty husks of their prey into the Sea of Solace. Those that had been killed had joined the ranks of the spirits hunting the streets of Lucian's island kingdom. Senda chided himself. It wasn't like him to allow a dream to scare him so badly. But I have seen the ghosts! The rumors are true. He ignored this voice, dressing hurriedly. He had to start the morning chores, and he doubted a bad dream would be a good enough excuse for Dreban.

  The kitchen staff was already gathered when he arrived. It didn't take long for him to realize something was wrong. The servants were crying, their aprons damp with their tears. Dreban was trying to speak to them, but they only wailed and wrung their hands.

  “Have you checked her bed? The stables? The latrine?” Dreban demanded.