by Jon Kiln
The Duchess leaned over and placed her hand gently over Myriam’s. “Your mother was spoiled terribly by your grandfather, dear. That’s why she had so much love to give to you.”
“I’m very lucky to have you by my side.” Myriam also held onto her grandmother’s hand. “Now sit back before you fall from your seat,” she laughed.
The rain pounded on the roof and the heavy curtains that covered the open windows flapped about with the incoming wind. The maids tried to pin down the curtains as best they could, but the ride was too rough. Myriam and her grandmother wrapped blankets around themselves to keep warm. It was Myriam's hope that they could hold off taking to horseback for as long as possible. They were not dressed for riding, especially in such inclement weather, and despite her grandmother favoring it, she knew it would be difficult for her.
Qutaybah was pleased with their progress. They had passed by a number of villages without problems, and they were making good time. He did not wish to stop yet, even though he knew the royal party would need a break soon, especially the Duchess. It was his hope to reach the mountain pass first. The crossing over the pass would be difficult, but it was the quickest way back into Palara. That was his main objective, to see the Queen and Duchess safely back into their own kingdom. For all he knew, Ganry may have resolved the problem, and they may be running from nothing. Though he doubted that.
Although they had been allowed to leave, he did not trust the boy. He had seen firsthand that an evil lingered in his eyes. Even now it sent shivers down his spine. Possessed, or not, the boy meant them harm. His experience in life had taught him to always expect the worse, so he would assume the Mirneans were their enemies, until it was proved otherwise.
Qutaybah was far too fond of the Duchess and her granddaughter, the Queen of Palara, to take any risks with their safety by being complacent. He would get them to their borders safely, or he and his men would die trying. When they reached the pass, he would allow the women to eat in the carriage, before they made the arduous crossing over the mountains. The pass was well defined and not too difficult, but in these weather conditions it would be hard going.
Already he had sent some of his men on ahead, riding at speed to cross into Palara and warn the kingdom on the dangers from their neighbors. Hopefully they would increase the troops on the border, and be there to welcome their Queen.
He cursed the rain. It was slowing them down, and making the ride on horseback even more incommodious. The rain had surprised him when it started. The heavens had been clear with the stars clearly visible, before a dark cloud suddenly covered the night sky. He feared it was the doing of the corruption that resided in the Mirnean royal city.
Still, he had sworn to Ganry that he would see the royal party safely back to their kingdom, and he had every intention of doing just that. Even if the forces against them could command nature itself.
9
Ganry was relieved to see the royal party leave the palace and make their way home. There could be danger ahead of them, though he was unsure at this stage. However, if there was, they were in the best of hands.
With Myriam on her way, it was time to for them to leave too, before it was too late.
“Quickly, Hendon,” Ganry commanded. “Let’s find Azmariddian and leave this accursed palace ourselves. I fear if we stay much longer, we will once again find ourselves being acquainted with the dungeons.”
“Yes,” Hendon agreed. “We all need to get out of here. I’ve arranged to meet with him in the stables. He should be there by now.”
“Good man, Hendon, you’ve planned well. Let’s get out of this place while we still can,” Ganry said, heading towards the stables.
Suddenly, the heavens opened and rain started to pour. A crack of thunder and a flash of lightning lit up the sky, informing them this was not a mere rain shower. Mirnee was in the dry season, when rain was a scarcity. The monsoon season was not due for another few months.
“There’s something not right about this storm,” Hendon said, frowning. “I fear it’s been conjured. I can feel the corrupt magic in the air.”
“I feel it too, Hendon.” Ganry shivered at a cold chill. “Whatever has possessed Cronos has become powerful indeed, if it can control the seasons.”
When they reached the stables, Azmariddian was already there. He looked old and frightened.
“I sense a terrible evil in the palace,” he said with a quivering voice, when he saw the men approach. “I hate having to abandon the Emperor and the boy, but I can do more good away from them. I cannot fight this thing alone.”
He led them further into the stables where three horses were saddled.
“I’ve readied the horses so we can leave immediately,” he said, passing the reins to Ganry and Hendon. “I know somewhere we can hide, but it’s out of the city.”
“I have a safe house for tonight, then tomorrow if all is clear, we can travel to where you suggest, if you’re sure it’s safe?” Ganry asked.
“Yes, it is safe,” Azmariddian replied. “Plus, it tunnels back to the palace.”
They mounted up and cantered the horses through the courtyard, towards the gate. Ganry was hoping the guards on the gate were not yet aware of the events unfolding within the palace. At the moment, uncertainty seemed to reign amongst the palace guards, and he hoped they could slip out in the confusion. As they approached the gates, they could see guards turning people away. Ganry placed his hand on his sword hilt, ready to fight his way out, if necessary, but as they approached one of the soldiers recognized Azmariddian, and waved them through.
“I don’t think it’ll be long before they close the gates,” he said quietly to Ganry.
Once out of sight of the palace, Ganry spurred his horse and they galloped off into the dark, with Hendon and the druid following closely behind. He headed straight for the merchant quarters, an area he knew well. More importantly, there were people there he could trust.
As they rode quietly through the streets, he spotted a bent old man, a familiar figure. He had managed to get word out by one of the palace servants who knew his uncle. They needed a place to hide. The bent figure he spotted was Berne, his uncle’s faithful manservant.
Ganry dismounted and approached him. They greeted each other with a fond embrace.
“It is good to see you, Master Ganry, but we must go now,” Berne urged them to leave the market square. “There is a new curfew and all citizens are to stay within their homes after dark. Apparently there is to be a census, would you believe? Your uncle is outraged.”
As he spoke, they could hear the sound of soldiers’ marching, swords rattling at their sides.
Berne quickly led them to a small wine bar. It looked empty and closed.
He then approached the wooden door, and rapped on with his knuckles, in a very precise pattern. After a few moments the door opened, and a worried head appeared in the gap.
“Berne, thank the maker it’s you.” The man swung the door open and he urged them to enter, quickly.
“Leave the horses tethered, I will take them to your uncle’s stables, later,” Berne instructed, as he entered the bar and gestured for them to follow.
When Ganry entered, Berne and the bar keeper were in a huddled conversation with much gesturing. The bar keeper looked over at Ganry and his party. Eventually the barkeeper shrugged, and handed Berne a key.
Berne came over to Ganry and explained.
“He is a good man, he will not betray us, but he is worried, as are we all. Already he has heard of arrests, and fears a stint in the dungeon will be the death of him.”
“I understand, Berne.” Ganry then called over to the man, “We will be gone by tomorrow.”
The bar keeper nodded and locked up the door they had come through, before leaving them alone.
Berne opened a door at the back of the bar with a key, and urged them to follow him.
The door led to a small back room that was filled with wooden boxes and smelled of sour beer. A trapdoor in the floor led down
into a cellar. The huge, damp cellar was littered with wooden barrels stacked against the walls. Berne lit a number of oil lamps that cast a yellow glow around the room. It was cold and dismal down here, and they could hear running water, but at least they should be safe.
“The tunnel over there.” Berne pointed out to dark cavern at the rear of the room. “It brings you out by an underground river. There should be a boat. If you follow the flow of the river it will take you out of the city.”
“Thank you, my friend.” Ganry embraced the old man again. “Give my respects to my uncle and advise him if at all possible, he should try and leave the city for a while. There is a dark storm coming and many will be swept up in it.”
Berne nodded that he understood, before he climbed back up the ladder and out of the cellar, closing the trapdoor behind him.
There were no beds, but some blankets were found in a wooden box. They were a thick woolen type, and would help to fight off the cold. Azmariddian found some dry provisions which they all ate. None had eaten that day and only now realized their hunger. As they settled down wrapped in their blankets, they discussed their plan of action.
10
The pit fires of the underworld were blazing hot in Mistress Thalia’s chambers. She was in a deep trance, using all her power to control the boy in the other world. It took much of her energy to keep Cronos under her influence, and she needed to be constantly fed from the blood supply from the vat under the floor. She was working quickly to possess those close to Cronos. Once she had them, she could transpose one of her fiends to control them. This left her free to oversee continual possession of all the important humans she would need for this to work.
Her demons could not function in both worlds. Their bodies had to remain in the underworld, while their spirits traveled across the void, between the dimensions. This allowed them to possess and control the host body. Once this was achieved, the shell left behind in the underworld was left to die. Even then she had further use for the corpses. They were thrown into the rack, so the blood could be extracted out, for food. The new host would be the permanent home for the fiend’s spirit.
Though the spirits would battle it out in the mind of the possessed body, only one spirit could live on, the other thrown out to whatever awaited dead spirits. Already most of the senior military humans were possessed by her demons. Soon, she would be able to open a portal and send her physical demon army through, to take complete control within the world.
At that point she could turn her attention to rebuilding her coven of witches, and then they could begin the ritual that would allow her to return. Once restored to her rightful place, she would rule the world with her demon hordes.
***
The Emperor was now merely her puppet. His body was weak and barely hanging on to what little life it had left within. She possessed him directly, as she did the boy, rather than have his body occupied by a fiend spirit. Most of the time she left his physical body sleeping in his chambers. He was only disturbed when Thalia needed decrees signing. Human legalities that strengthened her grip on his kingdom.
He had already signed papers banishing all those who were not Mirnean born. Mistress Thalia wanted no outsiders interfering inside Mirnee, not until she had strengthened her hand considerably. She was not yet ready for a war with the other nations.
Almost all the head commanders were in her control. The curfew and arrest of anyone who did not comply was causing concern, especially from those who remembered the witches’ revolt. A revolt that took them to war with Palara. It would not be possible to control every single soldier by possession, only those who gave the orders.
Commander Marton had called on Cronos to update him on the current state of affairs. “The curfew is in place, my Lord. Already we have arrested those who attempt civil disobedience, but some of the junior officers are beginning to question us.”
Order the garrison’s captains to attend your quarters, Thalia’s voice whispered in Cronos’s head.
“Commander Marton, I want you to gather all the commanders in the palace garrison who are questioning my orders. Bring them to the throne room.”
The possessed Commander Marton turned and left immediately to carry out the orders.
Cronos sat in the Emperor’s throne, awaiting the commanders. Occasionally, Thalia’s control slipped, and he was between his own conscious and her control. This was one of those moments. Why was he sitting on his father’s throne, and where was his father? Cronos knew that something was amiss. His father needed him. Once again the kingdom was in peril, but his head was not clear. It felt like a heavy fog was shrouding his thoughts.
He tried to stand, but immediately slumped back down onto the throne.
Stay still, boy, a voice inside his head spoke to him. You do nothing without my permission.
He tried to fight the commands in his mind, but he could feel a pain building from deep inside his head. The more he fought the voice, the more painful it became. A thudding agony, as though someone were stabbing him in the eyes.
The door guards entered the throne room, and Cronos let slip his concentration. Immediately, a warm feeling flooded his body, and he succumbed to its siren nature. No longer fighting the intruder in his head, the pain subsided. He sat there staring at the door, unable to move or even speak. Words did come out of his mouth, but they were words he had not spoken. He puzzled no more as his mind slipped into a comatose state, forced into the darkest regions of his brain, where it would sleep.
“Enter,” Cronos’s body ordered.
The door opened and Commander Marton returned with ten of the garrison commanders, the last few who were not possessed by one of her demons.
“A toast, commanders,” Cronos said, as servants handed out silver goblets of a heady red wine. “You have been chosen to command the royal city guards. Today, I wish to salute you.”
The wine contained a light narcotic, which was intended to relax their minds and leave them susceptible to persuasion. Once their defenses were lowered, it would be easy to possess them and summon a demon to take over their bodies.
“Dún do shúile,” Cronos commanded them to close their eyes, after they had all drained their glasses. “Codlata domhain,” he spoke his incantation to send them into a deep sleep. Cronos said the words to bring out his demons. His face wore an emotional blank stare, as his body spoke the words of Mistress Thalia.
As if on cue, all of the guards collapsed to the floor and lay motionless. The temperature in the room dropped to a cold chill, and the smell of sulfur hung heavy in the air. The prone commanders’ bodies began to shake and convulse. Foam dribbled from their mouths. It only lasted a few minutes, and then it was over as quickly as it had begun.
Soon they were standing back up again and bowing to their leader.
“Táimid ag freastal ach tú, Mistress Thalia,” they chanted their subservience to their mistress.
Now, she had complete control of the city guard.
11
Linz and the three of his men that were with him, had traveled to the southern borders of Mirnee to try and catch Shaman Grecia before she entered the kingdom. She would be totally unaware of the dangerous situation that was unfolding, and would be expecting to arrive for the celebration. He did not look forward to sharing his bad news with her.
It had only been two years since the last war with Mirnee, but hopefully Ganry could stop this latest catastrophe from spreading. Although, in his experience, magic had a bad reputation for doing its own thing. Other than his friend Hendon and the wolf people, he felt most practitioners were evil, so he was not too hopeful.
They had arrived at a point where Grecia would have to pass through to get to the royal city. The pass here meandered through two sheer cliff sides, and getting over was impossible. There was an alternate route, but that added a further forty miles to the journey, and a few more days travel. This was the most popular way in times of peace, and all would use it. Not so, however, in times of unrest, for th
ere were just too many places for an ambush. Fortunately, for Grecia and her party, the only ambush they would get on this journey would be by Chief Linz and his Lakemen, who were her trusted friends.
A storm had arrived throwing the heavens at them, so they took shelter under overhanging rocks. This formed a roof over their heads, protecting them from the worse of the rain. The area underneath was quite cavernous, and easily provided cover for them and their horses. It had been a hard ride, and they had not stopped to rest, other than to water the horses in streams. Just before they had arrived at this point of the pass, they had seen the storm and heard its rumbling in the distance. Now it was here. Linz was concerned that he would miss the shaman passing by because the heavy rain was making visibility difficult. They took it in turns to stand as lookout higher up on the rocks, but there was no protection from the elements.
Linz was just resting his eyes as the lookout came running in, informing them that he had seen dark shapes moving on the road ahead. He doubted it would be the shaman, as surely she also sought shelter. He ordered his men to draw their weapons and be prepared. They stood just under the outcrop of rocks, and peered into the pouring rain. Visibility was still poor, but he was certain he could see movement, dark shapes low to the ground.
“Chief Linz, is it them do you think?” Petres, one of his lieutenants, asked.
A low growling emanated from the advancing shapes, and Linz readied himself for an attack. One of the figures broke away from the pack, and drew closer. In the blink of an eye, it changed from a four legged creature into a woman. Linz recognized her instantly. It was Shaman Grecia. He relaxed his stance and sheathed his sword, commanding his men to do the same.
The other wolves also changed to their human form, and came under the outcrop of rocks for protection from the rain.
“We were not sure if it was the scent of humans we sensed, because of this storm,” Grecia said to Linz as they greeted in a warm embrace. “Why are you here and not at the royal city?”
