Wings of Light Special Edition

by Lloyd Baron

  And then she is gone.

  Tarfleam opens his eyes and sits up in his bed. He takes a shaky breath in and lets it out slowly. He rubs his face and grimaces as pain arches through him from his right arm. He glances down at himself and gasps. The cut on his shoulder he received in the dream is gone, but in its place, replacing where the blood had run down his arm is a jet black tattoo of a serpent.

  27

  GUESTS of the QUEEN

  Lisle Da’cention is a great man in his home city deep in the deserts of Flambour. Here, however, in the Atlantian palace he is no more than an unwelcome distraction from the maid’s day-to-day running. In the brief time he has been within the walls he has tried his luck with no less than six of the girls changing his bedding or cleaning away his clothes or bringing him his meals. They are a pretty bunch of young girls that he would not mind having a kiss and a cuddle with.

  He dons his pale green jacket and silently slips out of his guest room. The hall is long and rather narrow compared to the ones further down. These halls are for high officials’ servants, he is sure, but at such a busy time of sun he is grateful to have been put up in a room here at all. He had once been made to stay with a High Lord and that had not done at all. There were no pretty young maids there to admire.

  The whitewashed walls are decorated here and there with old tapestries depicting scenes from past wars. He stops by one briefly and shudders at the hideous creature shown. Huge arms made of what like rock, smash men from horses in a bloodied battle field. A small brass plaque under it reads, “The last summoning” in old scroll. He looks one last time into the eyes of the beast before continuing his stroll. He would hate to be on a battlefield. Lucky for him that he is a lord and will never have to see one, let alone stand on one.

  He reaches a crossroads and briefly scans around. The left passage is dark and slopes slightly upwards. Now that won’t do. If he is to find a young girl to make smile then he needs to be heading down. He turns on a heel and, with hands behind his back, makes his way down.

  After nearly an hour of wondering, in which he is sure he walked in circles and with no sign of pretty girls, he rounds a corner and stops in his tracks. His mouth drops open and his eyes bulge. In front of him is the grand stair leading to the Throne Room. It is a thing of beauty. A mix of gold and silver entwined together like a child’s plait make up the banisters and spindles. The stairs themselves are white marble, but a thick red carpet runs down their centre. They sweep in a half circle, opening up twice as wide at the bottom as they are at the top. Hanging above the stair is a huge, brilliantly shiny chandelier. Again it is mixed gold and silver with thousands of sparkling crystals. He knows just by looking at it that it must be worth everything he owns back home.

  A naughty thought leaps into his head and before he can think on it he has run to the top of the stairs and is descending them, waving to an imaginary crowd. He can almost hear the cheers from well wishes and loving subjects. He stops midway down and holds out his hands for silence. The citizens take their time and once the last whoop and singing voice has come to an end he takes a deep breath.

  “Citizens of the great country of Atlant and those of you who have traveled far to witness this historic event; I, Lisle Da’cention am now your King, first male to become King for over three hundred suns. I will be known from this day forwards as King Lisle Da’cention Ales’d till Abenbeth, proud ruler of this and neighboring country, Hillsbough. I take us forwards into a brighter fu—”

  “Finish that sentence, young man, and find yourself in the cells.”

  Lisle jumps out of his skin and staggers down to his knees. His eyes come to rest on an attractive middle-aged woman wearing a stunningly beautiful white and gold gown. His mouth goes dry in that instant and he can feel a noose tightening around his neck.

  The woman laughs and steps towards him with an outstretched hand. He takes it and she helps him to his feet. She looks at him sideways before taking a step up.

  “Do you want to see the Throne Room since you are here and will be leaving us tomorrow? It will be your last chance.” She smiles again, this time wickedly. “Your only chance.”

  His mind is suddenly filled with so many words that when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a strangled yelp. He decides it will be easier to nod, which he does and it earns him another smile.

  Older then what he would normally go for, he did prefer girls of about eighteen suns, but she is gorgeous. Very long dark brown hair, slightly curled at the tips. Deep brown eyes and a pale happy face. Small wrinkles nest around her eyes and lips, but apart from that she is still very youthful. She lifts her gown so that she can jog up the last few steps. He follows close behind.

  “Now young...”

  “Lisle. Lisle Da’cention,” he offers brightly.

  She grins broadly before she continues. “Lisle, this room is very important to the castle. Only the Queen and her daughter have a key, and the Supreme Chancellor of course. You must not touch anything in this room. Understand?”

  “Y..y..yes,” he stutters.

  The woman raises an eyebrow.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Good,” Queen Narmada says as she pulls out her key.

  ***

  Brychan Uttsin exits his room in one of the high towers of the royal palace, which he is beginning to feel is as bad as a prison cell, and makes his way down the hall, recalling each turn and twist of the palace until he reaches a junction he does not recognize.

  One way is dark and seems to slope upwards. The opposite way is much lighter and seems to slope downwards. Ahead the corridor stays on the same level and is straight for as far as he can see. An endless tunnel of door after door, it is any wonder that people know which room is theirs?

  He decides that it will be fun to explore the darkened passage to the left. He is only a few paces down it when he has a change of heart. The darkness is like a blanket over the world, and as he climbs the temperature falls. He stops and turns around, hurrying towards the junction, deciding it will be better to explore downstairs. As he nears the crossroads he hears footsteps moving towards him. He slows and then stops altogether as hushed voices reach his ears. From what he can tell they belong to two men, and they do not seem happy.

  He tries to hear what is being said, yet as he strains his ears one of them clears his throat and he realizes that they are just around the corner. His stomach flutters into nervous life and spreads quickly up into his chest. He contemplates just strolling around the corner and pretending he is meant to be there. They probably won’t even ask why he is there. By the sounds of things they are both preoccupied with whatever they are arguing about.

  As he goes to step out into the passage one of the men shouts a muffled cry which cuts off instantly. His bloodied face flops against the marbled floor an inch from Brychan’s toes. He jumps back, covering his mouth with both hands to stop from crying out. What has just happened? The second man backs into his view, his arms outstretched in a pleading manner. His eyes catch sight of Brychan and his composure changes. He leaps forwards and cries out. Brychan goes to help, but as he steps forwards the man shouts for him to flee.

  Lisle steps into the grand Throne Room and gawks at its brilliance, the stories have not done it justice. Where the stairs had been gold and silver, this room is mirror and crystal. Six huge chandeliers hang down the long room’s centre, however only candles on two of them have been lit. The light from them reflects from every surface to give the impression that hundreds of tiny flames and stars are floating everywhere. The walls are stone like the rest of the building, but they are painted a pale blue with shards of crystal and mirror indented within. The room has no windows, but it does not need them. There is more light here than in any other part of the castle.

  The lord from Flambour takes his first step onto the reflective floor and winces as he sees his own image seemingly floating in the air below his feet. He looks up at the Queen who smiles at him kindly and beckons him to continue.r />
  The feeling of walking on nothingness puts slight fear within his heart, but he is determined not to show it in front of Narmada. The Queen turns her back on him and glides down the room, her white and gold gown billowing behind her. She reaches the throne and steps up to the dais. She turns and her face is somehow different. She shows no sign of the kind lady from the hall or the playfulness of a moment ago. She is now the ruler of these lands, Queen of all Atlant.

  “Come before me, Lisle of Flambour. There are a few things I would ask of you.”

  Lisle hesitates for a brief moment but he tries to look casual as he picks up his pace and gets to the end of the floating floor. Looking up into the Queen’s eyes he can tell that she has noticed his hesitation and he inwardly groans. He drops to one knee, his left, and lowers his head to the floor. His insides feel like they are trying to crawl out of him. He holds himself still with effort, his entire being wanting to shake with nerves.

  “What news of Flambour do you have for me, Lisle? I heard some interesting things just a moment ago within a meeting I had with my high lords. It would seem things are happening in the north that I should know about. Well? I am waiting.”

  Lisle lifts his head and stares at her with a bemused smile. She must be playing him for a fool, testing him somehow. He thinks very hard for an answer that could please a Queen.

  In his mind he sees drifting sand for as far as each horizon. A burning hot sun scotches the earth and kills all living things. The image shimmers with the heat and from it he sees two lonely figures. A stocky wide man and a petite woman huddle under a rock away from the sun. Something about them seems to touch his memories, but he cannot see their faces, and they are wearing tatters of clothes so he cannot tell where they are from. Slowly the haze clears, and a vast army steps out of the heat to surround the rock. Men with swords and poles force the couple from their hiding place.

  A man steps up and orders the weapons to be lowered. He is very young but seems to be the leader of this army. He shimmers slightly so that he is never really focused, but Lisle is sure he wears the armor of the Empire. He is clearly one of the desert people as they do not shelter from the sun.

  The man rushes forwards as the woman drops to the floor. He grabs her and holds her close to his chest. Her companion tries to get close, but he is so weak that he drops to his knees and cannot go further.

  “High Lord Mayeen,” a thin dark-skinned woman says stepping up. “Let me heal them.” She removes her thick green cloak and takes a small repository from an inside pocket and bends down to the sick man. She drops a single drop of dark green liquid into his mouth and he instantly drops down still.

  “Hiffer, let me take care of this girl. I have seen her before and I feel obliged to tend to her well-being.”

  “Nonsense,” is all the woman says as she crouches down beside the man. In a low whisper she adds. “Saeed, this is a dirty street girl. You should not bother yourself with her. I am of the Healers’ Guild and it is my duty to tend the sick. Yours is to lead the armies of the Empire. Let me do my work and I will let you do yours, unless you want me to boss your troops around? Get them doing drills?”

  The man lowers his eyes back to the sleeping girl and the image of him becomes clear for a moment. His features are dark, but not like the woman’s. She is from the desert, and he clearly has lived there many suns for his skin is tanned but he does not look like most of the others. His eyes are light hazel with a hint of blue and green. Thick dark glossy hair is combed back, but is not slicked like the rest of his people, it moves slightly in the wind which gusts against him. A line of hair runs from his bottom lip down his chin and he has thick black eyebrows. He smiles and his hard face softens up and he looks every inch the lifelong friend of this girl. His eyes shine and his mouth curls up at the edges to reveal straight white teeth.

  “You already do, my dear healer. And I would not have it any other way.” He lowers the girl to the sand and steps aside. “I want to be told of their progress. Get me as soon as they wake.” He steps away but stops and glances back. “The second. Wake me if you must.”

  The image shimmers in the building heat and is lost. The name buzzes around in Lisle’s mind for a few moments before he opens his eyes and looks back up at the Queen.

  “The only news I have heard is of an army marching across the sands. This is not an attack but a rescue. Bodies were found in the desert and troops were called to go and find them. The High Lord Captain Commander Saeed Malekshahi is leading this expedition, and they are now bound for Viv, the capital of Flambour.” He slumps down and then collapses at the feet of the Queen. The whole world tumbles to the side and he feels like he might pass out.

  What had he just done? He has never even been to the desert and he has never seen this Saeed Malekshahi before. How had he seen this? How had he known what is happening? It could all be in his mind. He might have wanted so much for the answer to the Queen’s question that he built up a picture in his imagination. It had seemed so real to him though and he knew that these things were happening.

  The Queen is at his side in a moment. She bends and surprisingly lifts him in her arms and drops him into the throne. She puts a hand to his head and winces.

  “You have a fever coming on. What did you do?” She stands and steps away.

  “Do? I didn’t do anything.”

  She laughs a sudden short bark before stopping it with her hand. “You did not do anything. You were just on fire. The room became a desert. I saw everything you did. I saw the High Lord and I saw his healer.” She takes another step away, but her foot sinks into a hole and she stumbles, hitting her face on the floating floor. Blood gushes from her nose and covers the front of her white gown, yet she does not seem to care for the pain or the dress. She is back on her feet and staring at the floor.

  The thick mirror has melted completely away where he had been kneeling. She fixes her eyes on his and he can see fear in them. “You will need to see a healer,” she mutters as she touches her bleeding nose. “As will I.”

  “My Queen. I am sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You have put my mind at rest about the threat from Flambour. It would seem you have more skills than I was told about.”

  “I don’t know how I did it, though. I did not even realize I was doing anything.” Fear nudges its way back into his heart and he breaks down. Tears fall easily down his face. The Queen moves swiftly towards him and folds him into her embrace.

  “Hush now. Things will be revealed in time. I should not have played games with you.” She kisses the top of his head. “It seems you have cooled down.”

  “I am sorry,” he mutters again through his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Calm yourself. No real harm was done and I have news which makes my heart glad. You will learn everything once you find the man you need. He told me as much.” She unfolds her arms and is happy to see he has stopped crying. “Now, we both have a ball to get ready for. I was going to wear this, but it seems a little bit dirty now.”

  Lisle smiles and thanks her for her kind words. He stands and wobbles down from the dais.

  “You are the first man to be carried onto the throne,” the Queen remarks playfully. “And so much younger than myself. I have often wondered about a younger man.”

  Lisle pales and begins to shake once more. He glances at her briefly and is happy to see that she is grinning broadly back at him. He smiles with her as he makes his way over the huge mirrored floor.

  Dymphia Haldana stares at the scruffy Flambourn lord and scowls. He had brought the Queen to her rooms ten minutes previous for healing on her delicate nose. The story both had told was that the young lord had bounded around a corner in the halls and had not seen the Queen admiring an oil painting of “The Rise of the Sea King” and they had collided. The Queen had laid the blame squarely on her own shoulders saying that a woman of her stature should not have been crouching in a hall just beyond a blind corner.

  “It was that I had never noticed t
he small rat on the Sea King’s boot before,” the Queen had explained. “I bent over to examine it closely when this poor young man—who was lost, I presume—came hurtling into the hall and tripped over the hem of my gown.” She had laughed at that moment. “I lost balance and tried to right myself. Lisle here, his boot tangled firmly in the material feel across a small table, tugging my feet away from me. If it was not for these beautiful long sleeves of mine then I would have been able to stop myself falling.”

  “I rolled off the table and landed on the marble. Her Majesty reached out to steady herself, but her hands caught the insides of her sleeves,” the lord added.

  “My hands had been cold. The weather has turned chill in the last day and I have yet to bring out my winter clothes. It is still summer after all.”

  “But with her hands bundled inside the gown—”

  “And my feet no longer underneath my body—”

  “She feel face first—-”

  “Into the wall—”

  “Where she hurt her nose—”

  “And lucky that was all.” They had glanced at each other in that last moment and shared a smile.

  Dymphia it would seem was being played for a fool. She did not believe the story about a rat in a painting and this bizarre sequence of events any more then she believed this young man was a lord. In fact she would stake her position within the Healers Guild that he was just a rich kid playing at being important.

  The Queen tilts her head and stares into the small mirror Dymphia has handed her to see her face. The Queen’s nose does not look broken, but it is swollen and yellow bruises have sprung up around her eyes. She sighs openly and hands the mirror back.