Ali-Ster finally felt like he had stepped out of his father’s shadow and encouraged his cousin to do the same. He mused about life with Leimur as he crouched to stretch his tight thighs. The time to leave was so close, Ali-Ster could taste it. A little more practice with Deydrana and the King would be on his way to Goldenfield. He envisioned riding to all ends of the earth to see everyone bow and pay tribute to the Warrior King and Queen. He had always wanted a wife he could ride into battle with. The singers and poets would wear their throats out praising the words of the King who united the world with the help of an enemy queen.
Ali-Ster’s thoughts shifted to his arranged meeting with Deydrana tonight. She told him that sex got much better after the first time. He didn’t really like sex but the King wanted to improve for the benefit of his future wife. Ali-Ster had already offered Deydrana a chance to leave the castle to find a suitable man to marry. She told him she enjoyed life in the King’s Castle and all the inclusive comforts.
The King of Donegal saw a drop of rain hit a green leaf with a reddish tip. He got back to thinking about the hunt and looked for his horse. Ali-Ster grew antsy and eager to start the hunt. He felt a renewed sense of Wamhoff pride which he understood would be short lived. He knew he would be leaving before the next proposed hunt to take place in two weeks. The King hoped his family would carry on the new tradition and planned to join them when he returned from his unification. Ali-Ster forgot how relaxing and mind clearing a hunt could be. Most of the men focused on the hunt and their own thoughts. Too much time had passed since the men had enjoyed themselves in Falconhurst. He looked at Tersen and the men exchanged smiles. He wanted to bury the grudge with his uncle. Ali-Ster still believed Tersen to be stupid and weak, but he was family. That always trumped all the man’s shortcomings. The power of a last name went a long way in Donegal and most parts of the world. A normal albino could be cast away as bad luck. Ali-Ster wondered if Tersen thanked the Gods for his good luck in having a mother with a heart of gold. Queen Tomeo had saved Tersen and Ali-Samuel from meeting cruel fates. His uncle smugly smiled and asked, “Neron, how does that horn sound?”
The crying boy raised the horn to his shaking lips and blew. It sounded like a dying dog but Ali-Ster heard rustling in the near brush indicating the guards were responding. Tersen’s guards emerged from every direction out of the camouflage surroundings with long bows half drawn.
Before Ali-Ster could make sense of the men’s actions, seven arrows burrowed into the King’s body. Ali-Ster fell as Tersen screamed, “Get him, hurry, hurry.” Kryen ran off before the guards could kill him and several horses bolted from the scene of death. Ryen Wamhoff and his son, Tryen, lay dead with arrows intersecting their throats.
King Ali-Ster Wamhoff had arrows in both thighs, his foot, two in the belly, one in the chest and the final one in his shoulder. The boiled leather did little to stop or even slow the bodkins. He coughed up blood into his right palm and looked at the sky to see a bright silver light that instantly faded to green then black. The fallen King lay on his back facing the sky and coughed up more red liquid, staining the silver crown and his long, narrow, freckled face. Ali-Ster turned and saw Neron still crying hysterically with his back turned. His shuddering cousin turned for a moment and Ali-Ster spoke through the greatest pain of his life, “Even you, Neron, I trusted you.” Tersen congratulated the guards, “You will all be well rewarded for your duty to the realm.” The albino smiled as King Ali-Ster Wamhoff felt life leaving his body. He started to feel cold and numb.
Tersen stood over the dying King and spit on his bloody face. “You have embarrassed me for the last time. This is what happens to disrespectful youth. You couldn’t keep your hands off me so I had to show you how the Capitol works. And I’ve never even been to war,” Tersen mocked and spit on the King’s face again. Ali-Ster gasped for breath and blew a perfectly round bubble of dark crimson that stayed for ten seconds until it popped. Finding air became an impossible task. Ali-Ster’s mind drifted to images of Queen Leimur by his side in battle. The dream of saving the kingdom lay in agony, dying in the King’s Woods.
Look at me, alone in the end. Everyone left me, even my mother. Now I have been bested by my uncle. I should have known when he suggested bringing only his guards. Neron, I would have never expected Neron. On the battlefield I would have never underestimated Neron and Tersen, but in the Capitol I was blind to their greed and jealousy. I wish I had stayed at war. Why did I ever come back to Falconhurst? Death is part of life and death.
He suddenly received the gift of air again. Ali-Ster took shallow breaths to stay alive momentarily but the feeling was fleeting as his lungs tightened and threatened to quit again. The King saw rainbow images and became overheated as he squirmed around. The dying King could feel his entire body pulsating. He looked around at the green, brown and black surroundings and thought it looked like the assorted olive tray on the table during his meeting with Ali-Samuel about killing his father. That meeting at the beginning of the summer seemed so distant to Ali-Ster. Royal blood stained the fallen leaves and soil as the liquid gushed from the King’s wounds. He saw visions of his father, mostly lying dead next to his bed and wondered if he was being punished by the Gods for plotting against him.
Ali-Ster could only think about the pain now. He underestimated the striking vindictiveness of his uncle. He smelled the stink that so often soiled the field of battle, a dying man relieving his bowels. Only this time death had finally tricked him. Death could never defeat Ali-Ster on a fair field of battle. The demons had to send a sinister wolf disguised in sheep’s clothing. He let go and succumbed to the inevitable. A single tear ran from his right eye and was chased by a second after his breathing finally stopped. The Noble King had only reigned for thirty-six days before becoming a certain martyr. The thirsty mother earth greedily drank the drained blood of King Ali-Ster Wamhoff. DEATH IS PART OF…DEATH!
A-TERSEN
“Bring in the foxes,” Tersen yelled. “And get some men to find Kryen to confirm he is dead. There’s no possibility he can make it very far but I want to be sure.” Three guards came over with a leash in each hand. Six slobbering wild woods foxes smelled the blood in the air and chomped at the bit to get at the bodies. Each dead Wamhoff had two foxes start at his feet. The crunch of tooth on bone sent chills down the men’s backs.
Tersen looked over to the foxes attacking the King and said, “You put your hands on me one too many times. You had your chances to heed my advice, you little shit.” Tersen spit on the body once more and quickly backed away from the foxes. Suddenly Ali-Ster’s body sat up and spoke to Tersen, “I will haunt you for the rest of your miserable days until you wish you were dead.” Tersen jumped back in horror. He talked to the guard holding the two foxes that had eaten up to Ali-Ster’s thighs, “Did you hear that?” “Hear what, my lord?” the confused guard responded. “Ali-Ster, did you hear what he just said?” the frantic Tersen asked. “No, my lord,” the man named Barton answered.
“It’s no, my king or majesty or highness. I am no longer a lord. How didn’t you hear him, he was just talking. You did see him sit up, yes?” Tersen shrieked. “No, my King,” Barton responded as he struggled to control the focused beasts.
What is going on here? Barton is a moron but he has an operable set of eyes. He looked right at him as the former King spoke. How didn’t he see that? Tersen went over to the foxes chomping away on Ryen’s body and stared at his older brother. You and Ali-Steven terrorized Ali-Stanley and me. Who’s laughing now, big brother? We will both sit the throne, while the chosen brothers will die like peasants. You will be forgotten as time passes just like Ali-Steven, whereas I will be the hero of the Wamhoff family. You became a gentle man after returning from war but I can never forget what Ali-Steven and you did to me. I don’t hear you calling me the pale bastard or Albino Fish now. I don’t hear you telling father to throw me back to sea. I don’t hear you laughing just because I can’t swing a sword. I only hope father can see this fro
m whatever hell he resides in. Look at your son, King Ali-Tersen. You would never give me the royal epithet so I had to wait and take it for myself. Only my wife knows of the hefty portion of foxglove I fed you before you went to the privy for the final time. Everyone thinks you died while relieving your bowels, who’s laughing now, father, Ryen, Ali-Steven? No, it’s the lowly Albino Fish. Throw me back, ha, I think not. I have the final revenge on all the Wamhoffs who looked down on me. Tersen had a sadistic look as he enjoyed watching the foxes chewing their way to his brother’s midsection without any signs of slowing down.
“When the foxes are done, kill them, cut them to pieces, find any remaining parts or bones and dump everything in the Royal River,” the self-proclaimed King ordered. A light drizzle began to fall. “Neron, over here please,” Tersen said and his son rushed to his side, still crying. Tersen looked around before finding Barton and making eye contact, “Now we need the injuries so we can return to the castle as the brave King and Prince.” Barton pulled a dagger and calmly reached in front of Neron’s shoulder. He quickly sliced the new Prince. The crying teenager fell to the ground and bawled even more. “Stop this, you little sissy, you are a Prince now, act like it,” his father commanded.
Tersen held out his forearm to his guard. The new King looked at Barton’s face and it changed to Ali-Ster’s. The dead king raked the dagger through Tersen’s sleeve from elbow to wrist and blood gushed out. Barton reappeared as Ali-Ster dissolved. Two guards helped Tersen get up on someone else’s horse to create the illusion of a chaotic escape scene. Neron went to get on his horse until his father scolded, “Not the one you came on. You didn’t have time to find your own horse, remember.” Tersen turned to his guards. “We will ride with you to deliver the foxes and bones to the river. Then, the soon-to-be lords who surround me will return to the castle and tell everyone all the Wamhoff men are dead. A bit later, Neron and I will heroically ride in and everyone will enjoy their lands and die as very rich men. I told every one of you I would reward you, and I will be true to my word. Remember, you think we are all dead.”
Tersen and Neron waited in the woods just off the Royal Road. The guards went ahead and the two remaining Wamhoff men stood in silence, scared. Tersen knew his guards were corrupt from the way he had used them before. He wasn’t sure if they would turn on him someday and hoped that day wasn’t today. His head would be on a spike if his guards told the true story before he got back to the castle. He started to sweat and his head nervously darted around following the sound of the rustling leaves near them. The new King saw a squirrel chewing on an acorn in the brush and started to calm down. Suddenly, the King didn’t want to wait any longer. “Let’s go, Neron.” They jumped on their horses and heeled the animals. They made it to the castle and both men were out of breath and disheveled. Neron’s face had reddened from the crying and his entire look played up the act unintentionally. Tersen thought it could only help their case as they entered the King’s Castle. The bloody men walked into the Fox Den. Tersen saw his guards being questioned by the Wamhoffs. Tersen noticed his wife, Ryen’s wife and a slew of nieces already sobbing. He clutched his son and dragged him over to the family.
His wife asked, “Oh good Gods, you two are alive, whatever has happened?” She hugged Tersen and kissed him on the cheek. “The hunt got out of control quickly. Man has the upper hand over animals but today was a reminder that when you enter their land, anything can happen. That damn pack of wild wolves came out of nowhere. I couldn’t begin to tell you how Neron and I got back to the horses after fighting off the beasts, but we did, thank the Gods,” the King said. He brushed away some fake tears and continued in a somber tone, “The rest of the family…they couldn’t get to their horses. I tried to pull the beasts away from our King. I ripped, I scratched but nothing would stop the wolves.” Tersen showed the women his bleeding forearm. None of the women seemed to notice he only had one long gash down his arm and Neron only had a light slash on the shoulder from fighting away several rabid wolves with their bare hands. Tersen let some tears out and said, “I tried…I tried for our King but I feared I would become their next meal. At that point it was too late for everyone and I fled. I feel terrible.” He buried his head in his wife’s shoulder and the sympathy spread around the room quickly. He hadn’t publicly revealed his plan to take the throne, but Tersen knew no remaining Wamhoff would stand in his way.
Tersen saw Ryen’s wife sobbing alone in the corner and went to comfort her, “Oh, Madrigale, I am so sorry. Your husband and sons died bravely. And our King, bravest of all, of course. Eternal shall live our King in the heavens.” The inconsolable woman repeated the phrase through her quivering lips. Tersen gave her a soft kiss on the lips and whispered in her ear, “I will take care of you now, anything you desire.” The wide-eyed, mortified woman pushed him away and left the hall.
The horrified castle dwellers spread the news and before long the ravens started flying to all ends of the kingdom. The letters were signed by a new King. Tersen wasted no time claiming the King’s apartments. He lay in the bed that had belonged to Ali-Ster and Ali-Stanley before him, twisting and turning. His wife asked if he was all right but he just snapped back at her. Tersen finally drifted into sleep and the image of the former King in full armor immediately appeared. Ali-Ster Wamhoff pulled his sword, raised it above his head and dropped it down…
Tersen’s eyes jolted open and he couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. He kept replaying the day’s events in his head, over and over again. Tersen started to have second thoughts but it was much too late for that. Now he lay uncomfortably in the bed he had made.
BREHAN
“We’ll just stop in here for a moment,” said Kopar as he steered Brehan into an unmarked storefront. Beautiful naked women pranced around talking to the dirty pirateers. A strange fight between foul body odor and exotic perfumes confused Brehan’s nose. Kopar looked at Brehan with a big awkward smile, “Why, I didn’t realize this was a house of whores.”
The ladies of the night also worked morning and day on this island. They enjoyed drinking in the taverns and some cursed more than the seamen. On several nights Brehan had to help carry a passed out whore back to her bed. Brehan was cognizant of the appeal for a guy like Kopar but he became bored with the island quickly. He respected the brotherhood and fact that the pirateers had a family culture throughout the sun-splashed island. Kopar liked the atmosphere because women wouldn’t chase after him on the free lands. The affection the whores showered on Kopar was commensurate with the gold he poured on them but he did it to fill his empty heart. Brehan, on the other hand, still hoped to reunite with Elisa. Kopar liked to get drunk when Brehan would rather sharpen his sword. One major difference really mattered to Sir Brehan. As a knight, Brehan had sworn to help the defenseless and the pirateers targeted the weakest.
The girls rushed to Kopar who was known on Shant Island as a big spender. “Don’t forget about my mate. Save a bit for him, but let’s make it just a bit,” said Kopar, who laughed as he smacked a girl on the ass. Two whores came over and started rubbing Brehan. He wanted to leave but the women wouldn’t let their grip on his shirt go.
“You better pick one, or both, but rumors will start sailing about your manhood if you don’t,” Kopar told him and went toward the back with three girls.
“Alright, what are your names?” Brehan asked. “She doesn’t speak your tongue. Her name is Antee and my name is Dacoda,” the whore replied. “I’ll take you then,” Brehan unenthusiastically stated. The fair skinned red-head’s facial features reminded him of Elisa. The whore took his hand and led Brehan into one of the rooms. A large bed with a canopy held by four white columns sat in the middle of the room. The sheets looked to be black silk and clean, much to the knight’s surprise. Dacoda seductively danced in front of him for a minute, then got into bed and signaled with an inviting finger for Brehan to join her. He clumsily unbuttoned his shirt and set it on a chair. He started to loosen his belt to remove his cut-off pants.
The only thoughts running through his head were about Elisa. He reminisced about their first kiss and the subsequent beating he had taken the next day from the man called the Grizzly Bear. It had taken him weeks to recover from the whooping but he had always maintained that costly kiss was well worth it. Brehan still loved her even knowing he would probably never see her again. He had tried to look at other women and feel an attraction but only ended up comparing them to Elisa. No woman ever stacked up to his love. My first, my last, forever my only.
Brehan stopped, “I cannot do this.” “I know,” calmly said the minx. “What do you mean you know?” he asked in a serious tone.
“Your eyes tell secrets. Your eyes show love, but it is lost love. You still want to be true to your love. I look into a lot of men’s eyes and all of them tell a story,” she smiled.
The two shared awkward small talk for a while before Brehan asked, “Have you ever sworn your love to someone?” “Men have paid me to tell them I love them but I’ve never genuinely uttered the words. For women like me there is no such thing as love. For me it’s a dream that I hear knights like you talk about. The ending always sounds sad,” Dacoda said.
“It can be sad. I probably will never see her again but I pledged my heart to her, all my heart. Do you believe in the forever life?” he asked. She mockingly raised the question, “You mean when we die and magically rise to the heavens?”
“Aye,” Brehan confirmed. “I do not. Most people’s lives on earth are a great struggle. Why would they want that to continue for an eternity?” Dacoda spoke more intelligently than all the whores combined whom Brehan had encountered on the island.
Fractured Families (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 2) Page 27
