"A warrior to be proud of is one who knows humility,” Neteru warned.
"I will remember,” Rule said softly.
Neteru nodded tautly. “Now, one last thing ... a silver ear cuff; the mark of a Keronian warrior.” She placed the silver band around Rule's ear and stood back. “'Tis complete. May our Divine Maker be with you."
Just as silently as the three women arrived, they were gone.
Rule stood tall in his war garments. He had not tasted the uncertainties of war in a long time. The smell of death was in the air. Which one of them would fall this day? Rule heard the war cry of his comrades, and made his way out of the cave.
Rule smiled at his men. They stood ready to follow his command, armed with daggers, battle axes and rapiers hanging from leather axe holders and frogs belted around their waists.
Ibrehem stood at the head of the unit; his leather belt adorned with steel hardware was angled properly on his hips and sheathed his Schiavona. He eyed Rule's garb with astonishment. “How is it you are dressed in this armor?"
"Neteru had saved it for me ... ‘twas my great, great-grandfather's,” Rule quickly explained.
Ibrehem threw down Rule's old war equipment that he had brought for his leader to wear. “Then you will not need these.” He bowed. “My lord, we listen sharply to your strategy and respectfully for your command."
Rule pulled his Schiavona from his sheath and raised it high. “Death to our foe!"
The men raised their weapons and answered in unison. “We will follow you to death and beyond!"
"To the castle!” Rule commanded.
* * * *
Devora waited for Carson, her legs felt weak, and her eyes blurry. What had come over her? Grant the fact she had taken the youth potion later in the day than usual, but she had done the same a few times before and had never become ill. Why was she suddenly experiencing such effects now?
"Meridith,” she whispered. Aye ... it made sense ... Meridith's daughter was in the castle ... the blood of her sister had poisoned Devora's surroundings ... cursed the air she breathed.
The instant Carson knocked on the queen's door, it flew open. He bowed respectively. “You called for me, my queen?"
"I want the red-haired woman brought to me immediately,” Devora hissed.
Carson bowed again. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” He turned to leave, and then hesitated.
Devora frowned. “Have I not made myself clear?"
Carson's eyes twinkled mischievously. “I thought you wanted to whip them yourself."
"I have decided to first interrogate the wench before beating her,” Devora said.
"And what of the others, my queen?"
Devora casually waved a hand in the air. “Do what you like with them."
Carson's toothless grin spread across his face. “Aye, my queen."
* * * *
The door creaked open and three sentries walked into the torture chamber. Meav recognized Carson and Wesley, but not the third.
"Bring the one with the fiery hair to the queen,” Carson demanded of Wesley.
Wesley made his way to Meav, unlocked her wrists from the wall's shackles, then tied her hands behind her back.
Fear gripped Meav. “What about the others?” she whispered to the young sentry.
Wesley's eyes saddened. “They are to remain with Carson."
Meav gasped. “Nay."
Wesley quickly placed a finger over Meav's lips. “There is nothing you can do for them.” He pulled Meav to her feet.
Her knees buckled and she fell against the young guard.
Wesley caught her, and walked her out of the chamber.
Looking up into his eyes Meav pleaded. “Please, you have to help them."
Wesley quickly turned away. “I cannot."
Meav mustered her strength and pulled away from him. “Nay, I will not leave them."
"Please do not force me to hurt you, lass,” Wesley said, grabbing Meav by the arm and dragging her with him to the queen's chamber. “There is nothing either of us can do for your friends.” He tightened his grip. “Be concerned with your own fate."
"How can you stand by and not do something to help them?"
"What am I but one lone man among many?” Wesley said. “If I spoke my mind, tried to stop them, all I would manage to do is join the prisoners."
* * * *
Carson leered down at Zailia. “After our walk to the castle, I have been thinking about you ... wondering what you look like beneath your clothes.” He wiped a hand across his moist mouth. “I think I have a craving for something different today."
Tobiah saw the blood drain from his daughter's face. “Leave her alone, you mangy dog,” he choked out, despising the condition of his aged body more at this moment than ever before. In his youth he had been a formidable warrior. With one blow he could have felled the rogue that now threatened his daughter.
Carson's tone was mocking. “Well, how heartwarming ... daddy is worried for his little girl."
"What do you want done with the old man?” one of the sentries asked.
"Strip and beat him,” Carson commanded.
"Nay ... please ... I beg of you,” Zailia cried.
Carson's laugh rippled through the underground chamber. “Oh, you will be begging me, but not for your father's sake.” He unlocked Zailia's hands and roughly tied them behind her before dragging her by the hair out the door.
"Where ... where are you taking her?” Tobiah asked, before his chest tightened and he was consumed by a coughing fit.
Carson turned around, a devilish glint in his eyes. “To the rack, where she will first be spread naked for my pleasure, then stretched to death."
Tobiah lurched forward. “Nay ... nay! You stinking son of a bitch!"
The third sentry reached for the club hanging from his waist belt and struck Tobiah over the head.
Zailia screaming his name was the last thing Tobiah heard before losing consciousness.
Chapter Sixteen
Wesley tied Meav to a chair and left her in the room with Devora. Hatred seethed from Meav's soul. “You are me mother's sister, yet you are nothing like her."
Devora's ruby lips curled in disdain. “And glad I am of that.” She turned away and poured herself a glass of brandy. “Meridith ... sweet, innocent, Meridith,” her tone was mocking. “Everyone loved her, all the men admired her. And Oneida favored her."
Meav spoke curtly. “Is that why you hated her?"
Devora turned to face her niece. “'Twas part of it ... the other part was that with my sister's tender care, Oneida would have probably lived on for many more years.” She moved closer to Meav. “Rule would then have been too old to send away."
Meav narrowed her eyes. “And of course he would have watched out for his father's interests."
"True ... and the throne would then have been lost to me.” Devora said.
Meav forced her voice to remain calm. “So, instead you lost your soul and anything else that might have made you human."
Devora threw her head back and laughed. “And what is so wonderful about being human?” She glared at her niece. “Humans grow old, and die."
Meav lifted her chin, meeting Devora's icy gaze. “You are already dead ... your black heart is rotting now within you."
Again Devora's laugh rippled through the room. “You know nothing of what you speak."
"I know about the Prophecy and what fate awaits you, Devora."
Devora's voice rose in surprise. “What Prophecy?"
"The one in Wysteria's spell book, given to her by her grandfather ... and it tells of me coming to the isle.” Meav squared her shoulders. “Little did you know that your evil ways were what made the predictions come to pass.” Meav smirked. “And here, all along you thought you were in control."
Devora gritted her teeth. “I am in control."
Meav answered in a rush of words. “Nay, you are nothing but a pawn ... used by fate to bring the true power into command."
> Devora clenched her fists to her sides. “Rule ... you speak of Rule?"
"Aye, he is the rightful heir to the throne."
Devora's vexation fueled the venom in her voice. “Rule will die if he comes anywhere near this castle."
"You could not be more wrong,” Meav stated firmly.
Devora's eyes blazed. “How dare you contradict the throne."
"'Tis the truth ... Rule will not die. Your spell has been broken, and he is on his way to rip you to shreds."
Devora features twisted with anger. “Rule will not make it out of the jungle, because nothing can break the curse."
"Aye, there is one thing,” Meav responded sharply.
"Wesley,” Devora screeched.
Immediately the door opened. “Aye, my queen."
"Take this little bitch to the torture chamber and have Carson split her in half, than feed her remains to the wild dogs."
Wesley pulled Meav to her feet.
"Love, Devora.” The conviction of her words filled Meav with assurance and renewed hope. She felt Rule nearby and knew he would come. “'Tis the power of love that has broken the spell and there is nothing you can do about it."
"Get her out of here,” Devora screamed.
"Me true love for Rule and his for me,” Meav went on as Wesley dragged her to the door. “'Tis more powerful than any of your black magic."
Devora blocked her ears with the palms of her hands. “Nay ... ‘tis not true."
"And the love I have for Rule cannot die with me own death ... because true love transcends throughout all dimensions. Killing me will not stop Rule from killing you and everyone else in this castle,” Meav shouted. “Your reign is through, Devora!"
Wesley forced her out into the hall.
Devora ran to the door and slammed it shut.
Wesley put his hand over Meav's mouth and dragged her into a nearby room. “Hush, lass, do you crave a death wish?'
Meav squirmed in his grasp.
"Listen, I think I can help you,” he whispered. “Will you keep your mouth silent if I remove my hand?"
Meav nodded.
Wesley slowly took his hand away from her mouth and spun her around to look at him. “I overheard your conversation with the queen. This Prophecy ... ‘tis true?"
Meav looked deep into the young sentry's eyes. “Aye, ‘tis."
"Then Rule and his military are on their way?” Wesley said.
"They are, and they will overtake this castle. Devora and all that did her evil will perish."
Wesley licked his lips. “I am not one of her evil men."
Meav smiled warmly. “I know you are not. I saw how you tried to help Zailia on the way here."
"I only wish I could have done more,” Wesley admitted.
"If you help us now, sir, Rule will spare your life ... I will see to it that he does."
Wesley nodded. “I will bring you to the torture chamber through the outside exit ... should any of the other sentries we meet on the way question me, I will tell them Devora ordered you be tied and stretched. ‘Tis a torment she has inflicted before, so the guards should not stop us."
Meav shuttered. “Then what?"
"Then I will untie your hands and you must run ... run for your life,” Wesley instructed.
Meav frowned. “What about Zailia and Tobiah?"
Wesley sighed. “I will do what I can to help them ... if ‘tis not already too late."
Meav had run before for the sake of her own hide, and regretted leaving her family behind to suffer the consequences. She would not take the coward's way out again. “Nay, I will not leave them behind."
Wesley ran a hand through his hair. “I cannot guarantee I can save them, but at least you will be safe."
Meav stubbornly stuck out her chin. “I will not leave them."
Wesley sighed, exasperated. Quickly he turned her around and unbound her hands.” I know a quick and secret way to where the others are being held."
Meav turned to face him, laying a hand on his arm. “Thank you, sir. Your bravery will not go forgotten."
"Neither will yours, lass,” he said, leading the way to the torture chamber.
* * * *
Devora's body trembled all over, her legs felt weak. Slowly she stretched out her hands in front of her and examined them. Her fingers began to look gnarled, her red nails splitting.
"Nay, this cannot be,” she whispered, panic rising to choke her. Only one sip of the elixir was usually needed daily. Meav's presence must somehow be stopping the magic. Perhaps another swig would help, than she would be her vibrant self again and could summon Shell to prepare the men for battle.
Devora hurried to where she kept the youth potion and quickly pulled the glass vial from its velvet pouch. Only a drop remained.
Devora rushed through the chamber and into the adjoining room. Reaching up, she pulled at the candle sconce, thus opening the wall revealing two secret staircases. One led to the garden and the other to the west end of the dungeon, where her precious blue flowers grew.
With trembling hands she lit the first wall torch and carefully descended the stairs. The joints in her knees and hips throbbed with pain. She wished the passageway was not so steep and narrow, as her vision suddenly did not seem as acute. Reaching the room where her herbs grew, Devora gasped in horror. Not one of the flowers bloomed. All of them lay wilted, their beautiful petals a soggy brown instead of bright blue.
"Nay ... nay!” she shrieked, collapsing to her knees. With trembling hands she picked up one of the dead herbs and crushed it to her lips. Desperately she tried to siphon from the withered petals the nectar of life. The bitter taste stung her tongue. She coughed and gagged, spitting out the remnants.
Crawling on hands and knees, Devora combed the entire length of the dungeon floor, hoping to find a few good plants to boil down into a potion. But none remained.
"Oh, my poor babies,” she wailed. “What has happened to you ... what will happen to me?"
Devora began to shake at the fearful image of her cat, many years ago, dying of old age in a short time. The animal had turned to bones, and then to dust, right before her eyes.
A chill, black silence surrounded her. Was this how ‘twould end ... down in a dungeon with the rats?"
"Nay, not here,” she whispered. With the last shred of energy she could muster, Devora crawled to the stairs and made her way back to her chamber. As she climbed onto the bed she felt her bladder release ... soaking through her beautiful gown and onto the satin sheets. Immediately a horrible stench filled the room.
Pain gnawed at her chest ... her breathing labored. She could not feel her arms and legs, close her mouth or her eyes. The evil she had lived flashed before her, overshadowing the good she once was ... the childhood she once cherished with Wysteria and Meridith.
"Shell ... Shell,” she choked out hoarsely.
It was then that Shell appeared, standing over the bed with his eyes widened in horror as to what he saw. “Devora ... what is happening."
She could not let him know the truth ... the one thing in her life that brought her real happiness, she could not lose now. “'Tis Meav's doings,” she lied. “She put a spell on me ... believes I had something to do with her mother's banishment.” She placed a withered hand on his arm. “And she has led Rule to believe the same. He is on his way to storm the castle."
"I will ready the men for battle,” Shell said, making his way to the door.
"Nay, do not leave me,” Devora sobbed.
Shell fell on his knees beside the bed. “What then would you have me do?"
"We must leave here ... immediately. Take me down the stairs to the garden, we can escape through there and you can bring me to your village in the Jabri Valley. The Shaman ... he can help me."
Shell nodded. “Aye, he could counteract the spell; I have seen him do that for others."
Devora felt herself grow weaker. She knew there had been no spell cast upon her, but perhaps the Shaman knew of the little bl
ue flowers. “Hurry, Shell, there is not much time."
Shell quickly removed her wet clothes and dressed her in a long, white nightgown that covered her withering body. Wrapping her fragile form in a quilt he carried her down the hidden staircase and out into the garden.
* * * *
Rule and his men crouched at the edge of the jungle, surveying the castle. Every minute he was made to wait brought him physical pain. But to try and get into the fortress before dark lessened his chances of a victory. Striking at night was always a wiser move.
Rule knew a way to get into the palace through the garden. The secret staircase led right to a room that adjoined the queen's chamber. Devora would be the first to be run through with his sword. Once he had watched her breathe her last breath, he and the men would infiltrate the rest of the keep and take Devora's sentries unexpectedly. His only prayer was that he was not too late to save Meav and the others.
Ibrehem knelt beside Rule. “As my eyes set on the invisible line that ends the jungle, I cannot help but fear I will see my life-long friend and fighting companion die with a step across that border.” He sighed heavily. “Can you not let me and the others win this battle for you, my lord?"
Rule turned to look into the concerned eyes of his one and only true friend. “You already know what my answer is to that, Ibrehem."
"Aye, my lord,” Ibrehem said resigned, quickly casting a glance toward the castle. “You fully trust her love for you, then?"
Rule followed his gaze, looking out at the place where he had grown up ... where he ran and played with his dog Sabre; laughed with his parents and slept in his own bed. He was tired of hiding, tired of living life as a half man, half beast. “Aye, I do."
Ibrehem nodded. “I am happy for you, my lord. And will be right beside you throughout this night."
Rule reached over and patted Ibrehem on the shoulder. “I never doubted you would be anywhere else.” He cleared the emotion from his throat. “And I expect you to stand beside me as my witness when I wed the fire-haired maiden."
Ibrehem turned to look back at Rule and swallowed hard. “And I expect the same when I wed my Zailia."
Rule laughed softly. “'Tis about time."
Ibrehem smiled. “What irony is this ... that you would trust a woman under such circumstances?” He looked again at the castle. “How much longer now, my lord?"
A River of Orange Page 19
