Divided (#1 Divided Destiny)

by Taitrina Falcon

  The envoy was escorted into the room, two of her knights flanking him on either side. He bowed his head and dropped to one knee. “Queen Eleanor, on behalf of King Oswald, I thank you for granting me an audience.”

  Eleanor waved her hand indulgently, gesturing for him to continue and get to the point.

  “King Oswald wishes me to give you this scroll.” The envoy reached into the pack he held slung over his arm. He withdrew a rolled parchment, sealed with a red wax image of the Gatlan royal crest—a lion’s head. He moved to pass it to the knight on his left, but Eleanor stopped him.

  “Wait. You read it,” Eleanor ordered. “After you’ve removed your gauntlets.”

  She wouldn’t put a tactic of poison beyond the good king. The parchment could have been soaked in a toxic mixture that would cause no harm unless touched by bare skin. Testing the parchment on his envoy only made good security sense. While she could levitate the scroll with magic to protect herself from this threat, she needed to know if Gatlan wished her dead. If that was the case, they would not stop at just one attempt.

  “As you wish, your Majesty,” the envoy agreed, tugging off his gauntlets and setting them on the floor in front of him. “King Oswald of Gatlan, to Queen Eleanor of Sintiya. To broker peace between our kingdoms, his Majesty would like to extend the offer of his son, Prince Frederick, to join his hand with yours in marriage. The unification of—”

  “Enough,” Eleanor interrupted him. “Knights, see him to a set of guest quarters. Have him watched. I will call for him when the return missive is complete.”

  The envoy stood and bowed, placing the scroll on the ground and scooping up his gauntlets. The knights then escorted him out of the throne room. The door slammed shut, leaving just Eleanor and Yannick inside. Scowling, Eleanor rose from the throne and strode over to the window. Whenever she needed to think, she always found a window.

  “I will never marry that fool,” Eleanor spat.

  “Really? I think you and Prince Frederick would make a good match,” Yannick said, twisting his mouth into a cruel smirk. He walked over to join her by the window.

  Eleanor gave him a withering glance and opted not to retort; her silence was refusal enough. Wars of words were Yannick’s favorite kind of battle. She might have been his protégé, but he had always enjoyed tormenting her. She would not consider another arranged marriage, not even if it would cement her rule over Gatlan and allow for a more peaceful and legitimate-looking transfer of power. The people would accept her rule or she would show them the error of their thinking.

  A lean season could starve out a lot of dissenters, and time would kill any rebellion, especially as their day-to-day lives would be little different under her rule. She did not care for the peasants; they would soon see that whether they pledged fealty to her as their queen or to King Oswald, they still had to pledge fealty.

  She had ascended to the throne through marriage. It hadn’t been her choice; it had been arranged by her father. He had wanted her to be queen, and it had served its purpose to make that happen. She never would have chosen the marriage, not even to be queen, but now that she was queen, she couldn’t deny that there were advantages to the position.

  Eleanor had vowed that her first marriage would be the last time she would pander to the patriarchal nature of society. She was a queen; she had no need of a man in order to rule, and she didn’t want any mistaken belief that she did.

  “After all, accidents can happen,” Yannick suggested with a malicious grin.

  Eleanor snorted in agreement. Accidents could happen, and did with convenient regularity. King Augustus’s first two wives had both failed to give him an heir, though the fault surely lay with the bulbous, bumbling fool himself. Each wife had perished in turn to allow another to be taken. Then there was the death of King Augustus; the sniveling idiot had likely never expected his tactics to be used against him.

  However, while a fateful accident could happen to King Oswald’s son and heir, the young dimwitted Prince Frederick, it could not happen fast enough. Nothing short of five minutes after the ceremony would be acceptable, and there would be little point proceeding with the fiction in that case. She knew from painful experience that when disposing of unwanted husbands, patience was key to ensuring suspicion wasn’t cast on the poor grieving widow.

  “Ah, well,” Yannick noted with a hint of regret. “Amusing though it might be, it is ultimately unnecessary.”

  “Gatlan will fall. They are just desperate,” Eleanor sneered. With an impatient motion, she summoned the scroll, leaving it hovering in front of her.

  She scanned the document. It was full of flowery language, ten times as long as it needed to be; all the pertinent information was in the first three sentences. It broke down to ‘Marry my son, end the war, and the two kingdoms will become one—but under my control, not yours, as I am a king and you are but a queen.’ King Oswald must have been mad or desperate to think she would even consider such a condescending deal.

  There were a few phrases she could twist. On the surface, it would seem polite, but it would make the king’s blood boil in fury, especially given that she was only a woman. Word games were the province of men; women weren’t supposed to be smarter than the men they married. She just wished she could be there to see him blow a blood vessel.

  In two days, Prince Edmund of Kaslea was throwing a ball in honor of his engagement to Princess Maria of the Northern Kingdoms. Thanks to her magic, she didn’t have to spend tedious days on the road making the journey to such events. That made attending easier, but it was still such a bore. However, if King Oswald was still seething from her response, it would be the height of entertainment watching him try to control his impotent fury. That was reason enough to make the effort.

  Eleanor looked at Yannick and smirked. She knew he enjoyed his word games too. Maybe he would have some good suggestions to taunt the king, yet remain within the boundaries of etiquette. She motioned to the scroll.

  “A missive like this deserves the perfect response. Any ideas?”

  Chapter Twelve

  To Leo’s frustration, Cyrus’s final directions to find the moonbeam plant were no more specific than Mathis’s directions had been to find the sorcerer. For over an hour, he had tried to get more details, but the sorcerer had just mumbled riddles until he’d finally disappeared into his wooden hut to retire.

  When the team broke camp at dawn the next day, the sorcerer was presumably still sleeping, and even as uncharitable as Leo was feeling, he didn’t wake him. They wouldn’t have gained any more information from it.

  The three marines marched off to the east; that was the direction Cyrus had given them. The weather was fine yet again; they had been fortunate thus far that it hadn’t rained. Leo really didn’t relish marching through the rain, getting soaked to the skin; it always took days for his boots to fully dry out when in the field.

  “What do you suppose this plant looks like?” Nick wondered. Cyrus had been frustratingly non-specific, only saying they would understand when they saw it.

  “It’s called the moonbeam plant. I’m guessing it’s silver like the moon,” Leo suggested.

  “It could be moon-shaped, like a...I don’t know, sphere-shaped plant or flower. Plants like that exist on Earth; I’ve seen them.” Don nodded emphatically.

  A couple of hours later, Leo clenched his fist and raised his hand. “Hold up.”

  Nick and Don immediately stopped and readied their weapons, all trace of friendly banter gone, eyes alert and ears pricked to locate whatever threat Leo had spotted. Up ahead, there was a large green bush, one of many that lived in between the trees. The branches shook; something was there.

  Leo aimed his assault rifle. It was likely a deer. In fact, he hoped it was a deer. Two nights had passed since they’d left the city, and they hadn’t yet seen any animals near where they had made camp. They were rationing what few supplies they had, so each night’s dinner had been a decidedly meager affair. His stomach cramped in
anticipation as he contemplated barbeque.

  The branches shook once more and a furry snout appeared. It wasn’t a deer; it was a wolf. Its muzzle dripped drool. Its crooked, cracked, dirty teeth still looked razor sharp, and its eyes gleamed with madness. It growled and loped forward, straight for them. Leo didn’t hesitate; he tracked his rifle down and let loose a short burst. The wolf whined and hit the dirt, blood pouring from the wounds torn into its side.

  Don whistled. “Nice spot. I would not have liked to get up close and personal with those teeth.”

  Nick stepped forward and aimed his rifle carefully. He fired one shot into the dying wolf’s skull, finishing it off as an act of mercy. They moved on, a little quieter after their near miss. The terrain was uneven; they had to keep a careful eye out for rabbit holes in the ground and other such similar hazards. The last thing they needed was to twist an ankle, not when walking was the primary way to get anywhere in this land. Plus, the ability to run away was something nobody wanted to lose.

  However, the physical exertion hardly taxed their minds. Leo’s mind kept returning back to Earth, to the war they had left behind. He never had gotten to see his parents again. He’d been deployed a year, and on his return he’d just wanted to blow off some steam. He would regret that decision for the rest of his life.

  “How do you think things are going, back home?” Nick broke the silence once more.

  Leo sighed. It seemed their thoughts had all been running along the same lines. “I don’t know, and it’s pointless to speculate. We’ll get back soon enough, and then those bastard aliens will be sorry.”

  That was a conversation killer. Usually in the field they would march for miles swapping things they missed, the home comforts of things state-side, mostly good food and female company. However, given the circumstances, thinking about home wasn’t exactly recommended, even if that was where their thoughts were determined to lead.

  Distraction conversations like bickering over baseball teams were useless. There would be no games for the foreseeable future; there was a high probability some of the players were even dead. Every single regular topic was like that: it all led to the death and destruction that was currently being visited upon their world. Which left only one real possibility.

  “Do you believe in magic?” Leo asked.

  Nick gave a short bark of laughter. “I didn’t, but I have to say that paste stuff could make me a believer. You saw my wound disappear. We don’t have anything on Earth that does that.”

  “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” Leo quoted. “Might not be magic; could just be advanced science.”

  “He made it in a cauldron by mixing some herbs,” Don pointed out. “Doesn’t really get much more magical than that.”

  Leo couldn’t really think of a counter-argument to that, but appearances could be deceptive. Did they really see what they thought they had? It could have been misdirection, something to impress the locals, divert attention from reality. If it was magic, real honest-to-God magic, then—and this wasn’t the first time he’d considered it—they might have a serious problem.

  It was something he’d been trying not to think about. How could they find something here to defend Earth if they didn’t know whether magic even worked on Earth? Everything here could be useless to them.

  Not that any of that mattered unless they managed to find the return platform to get back home. One step at a time. First they would get the moonbeam plant, then Cyrus would locate the rest of their unit. Once they were reunited—and Cyrus would by then have proven he could be trusted—then they could begin their real mission once more.

  “Then there’s the knights, can’t forget those.” Nick tapped his side, where his wound had been. He would definitely not forget the sight of an armored knight swinging a sword anytime soon.

  “That’s not strictly magical, though, more medieval,” Don told him. “Now the dragon that’s roasting villages, that’s pretty magical.”

  “We haven’t seen that. It could be an illusion, it could be a robot, it could be anything,” Leo argued, his mind flashing back to the burned-out village—the smoke still rising black into the sky, the twisted, cremated remains of Gunnery Sergeant Rogers.

  If it was a creature that had done it, then that creature had intelligence beyond normal animal instinct. To just torch the wood of the buildings and not the surrounding forest, that alone made Leo suspicious. The fact that the fire had burned itself out, again without spreading to the trees—it just wasn’t natural. That supported his theory that it wasn’t a dragon; no animal could have that much control.

  “So what you are saying is that there is some magic in this world, like the potion that the sorcerer made. However, you draw the line at dragons?” Don summarized with a grin. “I never took you for such a skeptic.”

  “How do you think there are people here? I mean, when we came through, I was expecting anything, like giant furballs with a gazillion eyes, or tiny little bugs with ten-foot tongues. You know, something alien.” Nick shrugged. He seemed almost disappointed, actually. “But instead, we got humans, and not just that, but humans that speak English. I’m serious; how does that even work?”

  “There must be an explanation. Transport platform, maybe,” Leo suggested.

  In truth, he’d been wondering the same thing ever since he’d stepped out in front of Mathis on his horse. It was so far beyond what he had expected. However, he didn’t want to question it too much, because it was extremely convenient. There might be many obstacles to them completing their mission, but the language barrier wouldn’t be one of them.

  “That thing was tiny,” Don scoffed. “It would take forever; you’d never fit a planet full of people on there. Hell, we barely fit the twelve of us.”

  “No, I have to agree with Leo. That’s what links the two worlds; don’t know how it does or why, but it kinda has to be that,” Nick said.

  While they’d been walking, Leo had contemplated the platform. It had split them up on arrival, and he wondered whether that was supposed to happen. The carbon dating at the shrine had suggested it was a couple thousand years old. He would almost have been more surprised if it was still working perfectly after all that time. Maybe it just needed fixing or recalibrating.

  If that was true, it raised an option they hadn’t yet considered. The platform was tiny, but even at a dozen people a time, they could still evacuate some people from Earth. It would give them a way out. They couldn’t evacuate a lot of people regardless, due to the lack of resources.

  It wouldn’t save their world, or even a fraction of its population. Until they had arrived here, Leo would have said it was about the survival of the human race. Now, he supposed it was more about survival of Earth’s culture and heritage. It was a decision that was above his paygrade, and it could only be made if they fixed the platform. Just like with the question of magic, they had to take the platform one step at a time. They had to find it first.

  Leo groaned at the sight ahead of them. “Please tell me one of you has rope.”

  Up ahead, the trees thinned out. The ground was sloping downwards, which was why they hadn’t seen it before. Their path was blocked by a thirty-foot cliff. At this angle, it was difficult to see much beyond, but there were trees up there; the forest continued.

  “Maybe we should find a way round it.” Don looked to the left and right with a dubious expression on his face.

  There was no clear path to be seen. With the landscape in this area, the ridge had to extend for at least a couple of miles; it would be a long trek, and then they would have to hike back. That would mean leaving the path, and the sorcerer’s directions hadn’t been that great to begin with; they could easily get lost. It would be easier to scale the ridge than chance finding a way around it.

  From a distance, the rock face looked intimidating to climb. There was obviously some texture to the gray stone, creating a rippling effect. As they drew closer, some cracks could be seen. They r
eached the foot of the ridge. Leo reached out and lightly touched the stone. It was cool but rough; there would be plenty of handholds, but it still wouldn’t be an easy climb.

  “I got rope.” Nick unclipped his pack and dug in the depths of the bag, withdrawing a strong steel-wired black rope. “I got a couple of carabiners. Couple of cams, too. Staff Sergeant Ortiz didn’t know what we were jumping into, so he spread some extra gear around to try and prepare for anything.”

  “Yeah, Max and I talked about that,” Leo told them. “Didn’t know we were going to get split up on this side, though.”

  Leo watched as Nick eyed the cliff face critically, clearly mentally picking out the route they would take. Nick ran his hands over the rocky surface until he found a comfortable grip. He pulled himself up, boots grappling for purchase. He reached up and ascended further. Nodding, he pushed off, jumping the few feet he’d climbed, bending his knees to cushion the impact.

  “We can do this,” Nick said with confidence. “We’ve all had climbing training. I had a blast, actually; did some sport climbing during liberty for fun afterwards. That’s nothing like a trad climb, of course, but we know how do this. I can go first,” he offered.

  “Alright,” Leo agreed.

  He didn’t relish the climb, but it was all risk assessment, deciding what chances were worth taking. With the climbing gear, it should be relatively safe. If they tried to walk around, they wouldn’t reach the lake before they had to make camp. Cyrus had said it was a day’s trek with his directions. Leo tried to put aside the big picture; no sense wasting energy worrying about what he couldn’t change. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t conscious that time was likely running out for Earth.