by Lynn Hardy
Her story takes on a life of its own. As I listen, I am overcome by the sense of love and adoration she has for her brothers.
~
The royal siblings, opposite as day and night, look for the appropriate practice weapons. Raven locks disappear beneath the sparring mask of the lanky teen as he takes a first stance position, poking his brother with the wooden tip. “You feel lucky, Szamesy? It will take an act of Andskoti for you to score a point.”
“Almost got you yesterday.” The golden-headed younger boy swivels to stare defiantly up at his brother. A hollow clack echoes across the chamber as wood meets wood.
“Is that a challenge, little brother?” The patronizing continues. “You know we are supposed to wait for the arms master.” A lazy parry fails to move the wooden barrier blocking his path.
With a disdainful “harrumph” at his short, blue-eyed opponent, Alex makes a slash at the head standing a few inches lower than his own. Green eyes pop open. The attack is deflected then countered by a stab at his middle.
Red faced, Alex jumps back. “You asked for it!” He swings for Szames’s shoulder. “And if you go crying to Mother, I will thrash you twice tomorrow!”
Szames holds his own at first, but within a half-mark, Alex is using every trick in the book to remind his baby brother who is eldest. Szames is pinned in a corner as Alex hovers over him, hitting first one side then the other.
Grabbing one of the smaller swords, Rose bellows, “No, no, not again… not again!” She leaps into the fray. Alex is forced to turn and face the attacker who is half his size.
Within minutes the blond pair has Alex’s back to the wall. Zach, the arms master’s son, recovering from the shock of seeing the pigtailed princess wielding a weapon, rushes to the aid of his mentor. “Two against two is more fair.”
The foursome, embroiled in battle, never see the hulking figure watching from the narrow window. “Hold!” The single word halts all movement, as if the king himself has spoken. Eyes wide in fear, knees trembling, they form the line he demands.
Rose stands with her chin held high as the arms master glares down at them. Like the sun appearing over the horizon, a grin begins to spread. Giving a chuckle, the master of arms shakes his head. “It seems I no longer have a need to find an additional sparring partner. If I’m not mistaken, I have uncovered the reason Szames has been coming along at a breakneck pace.” One large hand cups Zach’s shoulder. “Son, you have some catching up to do, unless you want to be whopped by a girl!”
~
Rose shakes herself out of the memories as we turn off the broad, main avenue and enter the narrow side streets. “That was the day sword lessons began, as did my friendship with Zach.”
“Was it he who gave you the emerald?” I prompt when she appears lost in the past.
“Zach? No. He gave me this necklace. We often sparred together when our schedules would permit. One day he asked me to meet him for an extra practice session. I was fourteen. He had gotten a growth spurt and shot up past me in both height and reach, but I was quick, so it took him a while to best me. When he did, he gave an elegant bow, presenting a box in his open palm.
“‘For you, m’lady. A token of feelings I dare not speak.’ The seriousness of his voice made him sound years older. I remember… my hands trembled as I opened the box. It was the first gift I received from a boy.”
“One look told me he had saved for months. The stones may have been inexpensive, but the metalwork was intricate. ‘It’s absolutely beautiful,’ I told him, meaning every word.
He reached to place the treasure around my neck. I looked into his eyes and saw the love of which he never spoke. I leaned forward to him to give him the one thing I could: my first kiss. Afterward, I rushed from the room so he would not see the tears in my eyes.” Rose pauses, a catch in her throat.
“Was it love’s first dawning?” I query, though I discern no trace of the emotion within her. Only an echo of sadness surrounds her as she speaks of him.
“I never even considered him when I thought of love. That is why I cried myself to sleep that night. He is common born. Even if I marry with an agreement, anything between us would be impossible. That I was the recipient of feelings so genuine, from someone I admired, yet never dreamed… it devastated me.”
Again she pauses, fighting the old feelings. “It was then I had a most profound epiphany. I will never have what those flighty, annoying court girls chatter about: a true day of love. Zach had seen me with my hair a mess, clumsy, and red faced with frustration, yet he loved me. He knew me as no one but my brothers had. Not the picture of perfection, Princess Szeanne Rose, but as me, simply Rose. Yet because of our situation, I had not even considered him as anything more than a friend.”
“So love’s day ended before it even began?” Large buildings surrounded by a lush park, undoubtedly the Healers’ Consortium, lay at the end of this street.
“A few octals later, my father decided it was not appropriate for his daughter to be in the company of common soldiers. I have not seen Zach since. The egg came from Alex. When he found out about the necklace, he belittled the size of the gem. At the Winter Festival, the stone was Alex’s gift to me. He meant well, but to this day it serves to remind me of the impossibility of love in the life of a princess.” I perceive a hunger, deep in her soul, an honest desire for love and the despair of never having it. “I wear the necklace as often as I am able. It reminds me that once, I was truly loved. It keeps the hope of love’s dawning alive.” Somehow I don’t think this is a problem I can fix.
I leave Rose alone with her thoughts as we approach the Healers’ Consortium. We dismount at a broad, well-groomed path leading to a three-story stone structure. “Lieutenant, please take care of our mounts. I’ll be back shortly.”
A crowd mills around the side of the building. Jamison, perched atop a gigantic boulder, gives instructions. Seeing our approach, he hustles over.
“I thought you might be able to use an extra pair of hands.” I indicate the princess, who drops her hood. A wide smile spreads across his face. I perceive emotion oozing in gooey waves from both sides. Maybe love’s dawning in her life isn’t as hopeless as she thinks.
“You bet we can. We have almost a hundred new additions to our healing staff. Some don’t have a trace of healing in their aura, but they are willing to do anything that might save a life. Reba, I think I’ve come up with how we can use them…” Jamison’s explanation trails off as a healer passes, dragging a couple of screaming kids by the backs of their shirts.
“Malegur, wasn’t it?” I approach the physician who is manhandling a group of children. “What seems to be the problem?”
“No problem, milady.” He ducks his head. “Merely handling a nuisance.”
“But we’s just want t’ help. Weren’t no problem!” shouts the largest of the ruffians, a brown-haired boy whose toes barely reach the ground while Malegur hauls him by the shirt. “Flame-haired said kids could help too. That’s all we want, is t’ help!”
I take down my hood. “Actually I said men, women, and youths. May I have the names of those who wish to help so sincerely?”
The smallest child, a dark-haired girl, dashes behind the boy, whose eyes have bugged out of his head.
“And for God’s sake, Malegur, let go of them.”
The boy’s face is white as a sheet under the grime as he mumbles, “I’m Todd, m’lady. We’s meant no offense.” I smile, encouraging him to continue. “M’lady, I’m not so young, just turned nine. My sister Maria, she’s seven, so is Kappi. Chazan’s eight and Araine’s five.”
“Well, Todd, you’re right, you aren’t so young.” I close my eyes for a second as goose bumps make their way up my spine. Intuition spurs me to inspiration. “Hmm, I think, I have the perfect job for you. It is a very important one. Maria can you find me a small rock?”
She nods her head enthusiastically and soon locates a pebble.
“This is a very good rock. Did you know that with a touch of magic
even a rock can be many things?” I hold the stone in the palm of my hand so they can all see it.
“A rock you are, and a rock you may be,
But for you I have a different need.
You’ll carry water, and never rust,
Sturdy but light, a handle’s a must.”
A quick surge of power centers on my open palm. The children gasp as the rock expands, changing color. Within seconds I hold, resting on my hand, a one-gallon, stainless-steel bucket, complete with a metal handle.
“Now what I need is someone who can go down to the river and find a whole bunch of rocks exactly like that one.” I raise an eyebrow, handing the bucket to Kappi.
Todd, the obvious leader, bellows above all the exuberant shouts of, ‘Me! Me!’ “We can all do it; it’ll be faster!”
I grin at their enthusiasm. “You must be inside the gates by the time the sun touches the hills. The demons are still out there. Even though they can’t get inside the castle, they’ll hurt you if they find you outside after sunset.” Their eyes double in size as I pull a fire token out of my pocket. “Show this to the guards when you go out. When you get back, show it to the guards at the castle gate. Leave the rocks there for me. I’ll have an empty bucket waiting for you in the morning.”
I look to each one of the kids. “This is a very important job. Do you think you can do all that?”
They nod with the jubilance of the young.
“Now repeat the instructions back to me.”
They begin talking all at once, so I ask the eldest, Todd, to recite the orders.
“We go the river like the men get’n sand, ‘cept we get rocks like the one Maria found an’ bring them back to the castle gate, show’n the coin to all the guards.”
“You forgot th’ta’ part ‘bout being back b’fore the sun touches!” Maria pipes up, eager to correct her brother’s mistake.
“Very good. Maria, you make sure they don’t forget the part about the sun because I wouldn’t want the demons using my number one gatherers for monster snacks. Now you’d better hurry if you’re going to get rocks today.” They take off at a run with Araine trailing behind, though not by much.
“You have a way with the young. Do you have a use for a bucket of rocks?” Rose inquires as I join them.
“Actually I do. An important part of the castle’s defense, in fact.” I dismiss the topic, knowing I have to keep moving if I am going to make it to the ceremony with the king and the troops on time. “Jamison, how many awakenings do you need?”
“At least twenty, but I don’t have them organized yet. I’ll have more accurate numbers at breakfast tomorrow.” Jamison’s eyes keep wandering in Rose’s direction, although he is talking to me.
“How ‘bout I set up an awakening spell in that boulder? You could have the applicants place both hands on the surface and repeat the healer’s oath after you.” I give some quick instructions, glad there is now one less thing I need to do. “The enchantment will react to the words and perform the spell to release the gift.”
“You can do that?” Now I have Jamison’s complete attention. “What about the… you know?”
His ever-so-sly hint at the empathetic read makes me smile. “I think I can incorporate everything into the spell that is normally part of the ceremony,” I reassure him. “I would like to test it first, though, and make sure the rock will hold the necessary power.” I don’t think the healers would appreciate having a molten pool in their courtyard.
Five minutes later, the enchanted boulder is surrounded by a group of healers securing it against unauthorized use. I release Rose into Jamison’s custody after making luncheon arrangements for tomorrow.
“Lieutenant Craig, do you know where Saint Fabrotinn’s Cathedral is located?”
“Shall I escort you to the sanctuary, milady?” The soldier urges his mount into a trot. I’m glad he showed up. What was I thinking, heading out to the city without so much as a map?
Groups of commoners in drab clothing pause to point at us as we pass. I quickly replace my hood to conceal my telling locks. It seems mere minutes pass before we stop in front of one of the few three-story structures in the city. Made out of pure ivory marmari-sterk, the building is hard to miss.
“Lieutenant, would you mind taking care of the horses again?” I hand my reins to him without waiting for an answer.
The majestic, towering doors are made of cherrywood with two-foot bronze hinges. Grasping the metal handle, an ominous chill spreads down my spine. I begin to wonder what has called me here.
My eyes adjust to the dim interior as I pass through the vestibule. Another six paces and the hall opens into a large foyer. Padded, wooden benches line the walls. Five-foot-tall candelabra in the corners provide illumination. A young priest in a plain, white robe approaches as I try to get my bearings.
“May I be of some assistance?” queries the priest as I hesitate in the entryway.
“I’m here to see Archbishop Prestur.”
“Do you have an appointment?” The timidity of the question is at odds with the confident set of his shoulders.
“Nothing specific,” I respond by rote, focusing my attention on picking out the details of my surroundings. “He asked that I stop by to see him this evening.”
“Nemandi, are you having problems with the simplistic task of reception duty?” demands a figure entering from the next room. The new arrival is older than the priest who greeted me. The short man’s robe is golden with a maroon border. The pig-eyed priest also sports a large paunch, a balding head, and a haughty look.
In a voice dripping with self-importance, he declares, “Archbishop Prestur is occupied with important matters. If you leave your name, you will be notified when he becomes available.”
My hands reach for the hood of my robe. I address Chrome-Dome. “You may tell your superior that Archmage Reba is here, accepting his invitation.” Recognizing whom they are speaking to, both men step back. I look to the young priest. “I eagerly await his reply.” The youth takes the hint, dashing off through the lit doorway.
“I am Brother Christopher.” The elder priest’s tone is politer but still self-righteous. “Perhaps you would care to wait in the inner sanctum, milady?”
I nod, asking, “Do you know the history of Saint Fabrotinn’s canonization?”
“He was the bearer of the Prophecy of the Flame. Through his death, when the first Church of Eldrich burned, he gave us the words of the prophecy.” Christopher ushers me through the doorway into a polygonal sanctuary I immediately recognize from my earlier premonition.
The room is drastically different from any church I have ever attended: I am standing in an octagonal room. The walls of the sanctuary are set at distinct angles. Eight sets of candelabra, varying in height, are placed in each corner. Twenty pews, varying in length to accommodate the interesting shape of the room, are arranged in two rows. The priest leads me down the nave and up eight steps to an apse, where he kneels to pray at an eight-sided altar.
I ignore the pagan’s babble as a marble statue to my left absorbs my attention. It is exquisite in its extraordinary detail. The sculpture depicts a man. His robes are royal blue marble, and the face is alabaster stone polished so it seems to glow. The features are engraved in such detail, I sense the peace the priest is feeling as the flames, depicted in bronze, devour him from feet to waist. Hmm, was it from serenity that he prophesied… or agony?
Christopher clears his throat. “It is required that all who enter pay respects to Andskoti.” He indicates the spot next to him.
“My beliefs do not allow me to kneel to any god but mine.” I shrug off his request.
“B-but, it is required of all who enter, regardless of their beliefs.” Sure of his sacred duty, his voice rises. “You must kneel in respect. No homage is expected, simply acknowledgment.”
“I am not a child of your world.” The tension in the room becomes almost palpable. “I worship God. He doesn’t allow me to bend a knee to any other god
, not even in the giving of respect or acknowledgment.” Where’s my staff? My eyes narrow as I recall leaving it tied to the saddle.
Brother Christopher grabs my arm. Three doors open simultaneously, one in the chancel behind the altar and two set to either side of the main doorway.
A judo twist frees me from the man’s grasp. I step into a corner beside the stone table, keeping the platform between the priests and me. Having obtained a secure position, I evaluate the situation. Eight to one. Even without a weapon, I’d say the odds are in my favor unless they’ve had combat training.
“What is going on here?” demands the eldest priest, whom I recognize as Archbishop Prestur. “Christopher, I asked you a question. What is going on here?”
“Archbishop, I was…” His voice takes on a whine. “She… she refused to kneel.”
The archbishop looks to me for an answer. Our eyes meet. The room glows as if I am looking at the world through sunlit glasses. The luminescence is accompanied by warmth, like being huddled up in my favorite blanket on a rainy day. Although the sensation is pleasant to my senses, I tense, knowing there is no god but mine. Will I have to fight to prove God’s power?
A deep voice comes from everywhere at once, reverberating throughout the room. “You, Reba, of the world you call Earth, are a child of the One God, Yahweh. His mark is upon your soul. Therefore, I declare it unnecessary for you to kneel before me.”
“You know my heavenly Father?” I question the bodiless being.
The voice brings a sense of veneration as it continues, this time inside my head, “We all know of the One.”
Uncomfortable with the intimate contact of sharing thoughts with a being I do not know, I demand, “Who are you?”
“I am the one called Andskoti.”
I sense no malice, simply honesty and caring. “What do you wish of me? Why have you brought me here?”
My face betrays nothing as the alien thoughts of Andskoti penetrate my mind once again. “My time is limited. I stand blocking a gateway linking this world to another. I will choose one who will accompany you in the campaign to find the gate’s location. You must leave immediately after the battle, traveling in a circular route around Castle Eldrich. We do not have a luxury of time. All is lost if the gate is not destroyed.”
