They stopped and jumped off their horses. Sir Anderley Ellsworth cinched the horses to a post on the side of the trail. It was a nice early harvest day in Falconhurst as the Queen looked at the flowers just starting to bloom. They strolled off the worn path into some thick brush and spotted the little clearing.
“AAAHHH!” the Queen suddenly screamed as she ran behind the knight.
He pulled a small dagger from his hip and flung it toward the ground. It pierced the red-tailed snake that had scared the Queen, killing it on the spot. The Queen released her tight grip from Sir Anderley but her heart still pounded with fear. She hated snakes possibly more than anything else. Sir Anderley pulled out the knife, tossed the serpent aside and cleared the way. In the middle of the short green grass sat a glowing amethyst plant. The sun perfectly penetrated the trees at that point and made the plant shine. Silly smirks came over the faces of the Queen and Anderley.
Emilia Burke Wamhoff, Queen of Donegal, was petite to the extreme, but a perfectly proportioned miniature woman. She sometimes looked like a child next to the enormous King, but even so most people saw her as a fully grown, sexy woman. Her curly brown hair swept down to the small of her back and her green eyes complemented it perfectly. The Queen spoke with a high pitched, girlish voice even though she was thirty-three. Her bronze skin tone glowed in the partial sunlight.
Sir Anderley Ellsworth took the small flat plank out of his satchel and gripped it in his left hand. He held it over the object of the Queen’s fancy. He pulled the lavender bud from the plant with his right hand. Anderley smashed it against the board and ground it in with his thumb.
He offered it up to the Queen. She patted the powdery substance with two fingers and rubbed it on her tongue. Sir Anderley repeated the process and the Queen went for a second taste. She rubbed the amethyst on her gums this time and then on her full, luscious lips. It tasted terrible but the final effects were what the Queen wanted. Her eyes twitched and the Queen started sweating. Her stomach felt terrible and swirled around, churning until she almost threw up. Then suddenly, pleasure spread through her entire body as the plant took effect just in time. She used drugs because she felt very lonely in the castle and they made her feel good. She had never felt accepted by the Wamhoff family, especially the older women. The Queen glanced up at the sunlight through the tree branches and the green leaves oddly turned purple.
Thank the Gods did I need this.
The Queen and Anderley were great friends, but they often spent hours together barely speaking. Balance became extremely difficult and the Queen stabilized herself on a low tree branch. The branch felt funny in her hand, it made her fingers tingle.
“What shall you do today, my Queen?” Anderley wanted to know.
“Huh,” the Queen said through her purple haze, “How about…we go to the duels?”
Anderley never denied the Queen her wishes. He lived inside a diminutive, fit body with long brown hair and blue eyes. He wore his hair in a ponytail most of the time. He had forfeited all his lands and titles as heir to Lightview to pursue a life of honor. The knight became a member of the King’s Guard four years ago but ironically spent most of his time protecting the Queen.
When they reached the horses, the Queen’s eyes seemed to be dancing in her head.
A concerned Anderley asked, “My Queen, will you be alright to ride?”
She focused her vision and replied, “I am fine, this one just hit me a bit harder than before.”
They both mounted and took off for the Dueling Yard. The Dueling Yard served dual purposes. If the prisoners won seven duels, which were single combat fights to the death, and served seven years in the army, they became free men again. Wooden benches were built all around the yard for people to sit and watch. The citizens placed bets on the fights and cheered on their favorite criminal champions. Twenty minutes later, the Queen and Sir Anderley arrived at the Dueling Yard. A man ran up to the Queen and Anderley, eager to watch their horses. Anderley gave him two coppers and the pair proceeded toward the yard.
The seats were configured in a horseshoe pattern with one end open for entering and leaving. The tiers of seats around the well of the Dueling Yard ascended toward the back and could hold about seven hundred people. The pair strolled into the yard and felt the morbid excitement in the air. Some of the fans belted out crazy sounding screams and others cheered in the seats. Two criminals battled for their lives in the middle of the Yard. The massive crowd roared like a starving beast. The thirst of blood appeared more prevalent in the audience than on the yard of battle sometimes. Most of the audience members were highborn who gambled heavy piles of gold on the fights. On either side of the yard the future combatants lined up for inspection. The Queen and Sir Anderley sized them up, seeing what match-ups they wanted to gamble on. Everyone bowed to the Queen in reverence as she passed. They knew she came from commoner roots with a lucky last name.
The King had gone to Burkeville to visit his sister after the death of his first wife, Parys. He met Emilia during a walk through the woods and instantly fell for her. Emilia’s family, the Burkes, had strained family ties with the Duke of Burkeville. Her father was the cousin of Duke Aston Burke, who wouldn’t even let Emilia’s immediate family in his castle. She grew up not knowing the cause of the feud. They had lived within an hour of the Duke’s castle but her father simply told her never to go there. But that day she had sneaked into Arigold, the Capitol of Burkeville, to see what the King looked like. They found each other and the King fell in love with the beautiful fourteen-year-old.
A king marrying a woman with no last name influence ruffled a few feathers, but a determined king always gets his way. He had validated it by saying that the Burke last name was good enough. And although the Queen appeared somewhat simple in thought, she remained beloved by the people of the city. She mingled with them and gave them respect in return. Most of the city hated King Ali-Stanley, but the citizens were always receptive of Queen Emilia. She needed little protection around the Capitol, but Sir Anderley still escorted her everywhere.
They were whisked right up to the front row, closest to the action. Two men squared off in the middle of the grassy yard. One man stood almost twice the size of his opponent. Fitted with black armor, the mammoth man held a colossal wooden shield and small war axe that he operated with one hand. The tiny man wore silver armor that hung poorly from his body, leaving plenty of exposed area. It shone in the sunlight, along with his little sword. The little guy had protected his head with a silver eagle-shaped helm as he readied for battle. Both prisoners had won two brawls already, but the Queen and nearly all of the gamblers bet on the giant.
Chop his little head off so I can collect my gold fox.
The referee screamed, “Battle” as the behemoth rushed his opponent and took a heaving swing with the war axe. The smaller, quicker dueler easily avoided the pain. The immense man rushed four or five more times, swinging mightily without success.
Come on you big oaf, finish this little creep off.
The giant tired quickly but continued to chase the half man around the Dueling Yard. The tiny dancer silenced the crowd of more than five hundred people who had howled like uncontrollable animals at the start of the match.
The gigantic criminal finally discarded the useless shield that only weighed him down.
Let’s go, you stupid criminal, you better beat a man half your size.
With two hands firmly on his axe, he swung mightily hoping to split the already small man into two pieces. He missed again, only succeeding in deeply jamming his axe into mother earth’s body. The huge man struggled to extract the weapon from the ground. The slight man pounced at the opportunity with a mighty upswing through the giant’s manhood and into his stomach. The tiny man removed the sword and slipped behind the giant. The colossal man was crouched on his knees, moaning in pain. After he felled the hefty man, bringing him down to his own size, he seized the moment. The pint sized man drove his sword through the back of the giant’s
neck, down into his heart, sending him straight to a bloody, painful death.
How in the hells did that just happen?
The stadium fell into shocked silence. The only sounds heard were from the few in attendance that stood to make huge amounts of coin courtesy of the victorious little man. It took three full-sized men to drag the behemoth from the grounds in preparation for the next duel.
Maybe I shall take the smaller man next time. That amethyst feeling is wearing off. I will need something else soon. What else can we do after this to stay away from the smelly city and my self- righteous husband?
GO FOR A SWIM?
PENROSE
Please forgive me Gods, for I have done it again. The craving for blood runs stronger every day. I try and try to fight it, sometimes I can for a week or so, but then the voices take over. I am up to more than four a month now and the demands are getting louder. I almost killed the King today to quiet the chanting. If his son wasn’t with him, I may have done it. They should keep me from King Ali-Stanley. Gods help me as I have little control over my lust for blood anymore. These thoughts dominate my life and I need them to stop. Killing for duty is commanded but this is for amusement now. I just like to see the looks in their eyes as they struggle to hold on to life. Please Gods save me, for I fear my soul is lost.
Thunder boomed through the chapel, but he didn’t remember seeing a cloud in the Falconhurst sky when he had entered the temple.
He knelt, hands folded over his heart, praying. When done, Sir Penrose Ellsworth now sat up in the chapel of The Faith of Eternal Light. The Father and Brothers of the church served the elite of Falconhurst by washing away sins in exchange for a hefty financial contribution. Members of the church signed multiyear contracts that bound them to donate a certain monthly allowance. The Faith was extremely shrewd and they knew that promises of salvation after death sold at a prime premium in Donegal. The church also housed some of the high ranking Brothers and the High Holy Leader. Sir Penrose Ellsworth’s main duties were to protect King Ali-Stanley, basically serving as his personal body guard. This meant Penrose had access to any place he wanted to go, no one refused him. He rose, bowed to the totem of the Gods, and walked through a door on the side of the beautifully decorated chapel.
“Hello, Sir Penrose,” a short guard greeted him.
“Oh, hello Randall, are the children alright?” asked Penrose.
“Yes, they uh, recovered like magic, thanks for askin’,” declared a smiling Randall.
“That’s great news. Is his Holiness in right now?” wondered a curious Penrose.
“Uh, yes he’s down in the bathe right now,” answered Randall.
“Thank you, my good man,” added Penrose with a fake smile. Behind the grin, a world of pain circulated inside Penrose.
He went down a stone spiral staircase to get to the High Holy Leader’s private bathe. Penrose and Father Enroy were good friends and the Father had told him to stop by whenever he wanted. Penrose didn’t agree with the lavish lifestyle most of the high ranking officials led. However, he hoped befriending the High Holy Leader might bolster his chance of salvation. He needed his current sins washed away first. The heat attacked him as Penrose opened the door to the bathe. The gleaming torches on all sides of the water made it easy to spot the smallish Father Enroy squirming pleasurably in the heated water. He looked very surprised and a little disconcerted to see Penrose.
“Penrose, hello,” said the Father with wide eyes and a lump in his throat.
Suddenly, two small boys popped up out of the water right in front of the Father. Several seconds later, three more toddlers emerged around Father Enroy. The oldest boy couldn’t have been more than eight or nine.
The Father’s face turned bright red as he asked, “Care for a swim?”
“No thank you. I believe I shall wait outside your office for you, Father,” said Penrose as he scurried out.
“I shall be right there,” shouted the naked Father as Penrose left the room.
What in the hells? Two men together is one thing, but taking advantage of little boys is reprehensible. I should clean him up for the Gods. I can taste his divine blood already. Maybe that will cleanse my soul? Stop screaming at me.
The voices berated him as he headed away from the bathe, demanding the Father’s blood. He made his way upstairs, through the chapel and toward the back, to the High Holy Leader’s office. The church made a fine spectacle. Stained glass windows with scenes from the holy writs surrounded the chapel. Diamonds and gemstones gaudily accentuated the windows. Masterfully constructed marble pews filled the room that could accommodate about two hundred and fifty wealthy worshipers. Opulent silk pillows more than ten feet long were secured to the ground for comfort when kneeling during prayer. They had the pattern of the black raven of the Faith on purple silk. The raven represented the brothers of the Faith delivering the messages of the Gods. Jade, ebony and ivory sculptures of the Gods were twice as large as mortal men and stationed up front on either side of the altar. Four stood on one side and three on the other. Penrose sat on the expensive bench and wrestled with his thoughts. The thunder resounded through his head again.
I can kill him; I can kill him right now and it will be easy. Wait, no, I can’t kill him. He is the only one who can possibly save my soul. If I kill him nobody will absolve my sins. I can’t kill him.
Sir Penrose Ellsworth looked like a guileless twenty year old. With long, curly blond hair past his shoulders and bright blue eyes, the ladies were very fond of him. But it didn’t matter because he was sworn to the King’s Guard and couldn’t marry. He spoke softly and eloquently, hardly ever raising his tone. Penrose’s daily activities kept him healthy and strong, but internal demons tore him apart. The knight battled constant stomach pains. Only a year ago, everything had seemed fine, but then he started hearing the voices. Penrose’s obedience seemed to feed the voices and silence them, but they always came back for more lifeblood.
Penrose came from one of the most prominent houses in Fox Chapel. His father, Ichibod Ellsworth, was the High Lord of Lightview. Lightview was the most profitable district in Fox Chapel. They even traded with Mattingly behind the King’s back. Penrose had shunned land and money as heir of Lightview to live a life of honor. Anderley was the original heir and it fell to Penrose after his older brother left for the King’s Guard. It had crushed Ichibod Ellsworth to see Penrose follow Anderley to the Capitol.
He stood up abruptly when Father Enroy arrived, garbed in a scarlet robe. He wore two gold belts to secure the hanging silk.
He spoke first, “Penrose, I do apologize for that. Please do not think it was what it seemed.”
“Can we forget about that, I would like to talk with you for a few minutes Father,” Penrose quietly proposed.
The Father opened his office door and said, “Come in, my son.”
Father Enroy offered a chair to Penrose and then sat down himself. The Father looked as though he was well into his sixties, but no one precisely knew his exact age. He lived life as a robust, compact man. Gluttony had fattened the Father and imbued him with a false sense of self-worth. The High Holy Leader, a bald man on top with gray hair hanging down the sides of his head, played with his robe. He had a ridiculous patchy beard that should have been shaved off altogether.
The office gleamed with gold and jewels, like a room fit for a king. The couches and desk were finely constructed and expensive silks covered the windows. The Father had a chair that would rival a throne in some realms. Constructed of jade, its armrests also showcased every imaginable precious stone. There were a lot of gems Penrose had never seen and couldn’t identify; he only knew that they all sparkled beautifully. The back support extended up to about seven feet and was fitted with two giant pearls on either side at the top. Two ebony carved ravens held the pearls in their claws as they hovered above the chair with outstretched wings. Father Enroy tried to get the water from his ear as he listened to Penrose.
“Well Father, I wondered, what d
o you do when you have the urge to sin?”
“I like to think of the day when I am being judged by the seven Gods. What would they say? You must try to fight the urges, my son. However, there are times when primal needs must be met. And the Gods might understand that perhaps.”
Penrose heard the answer he wanted but the Father’s message was vague.
Maybe this is just a primal need I have to fulfill sometimes. But not right now. I can’t kill him.
A sudden hard knock at the door caught both men unawares. Penrose placed his hand on his sword and slowly cracked the door. There stood King Ali-Stanley Wamhoff with three massive guards.
“Penrose, is the Father in?” asked the King.
“Yes, your highness,” said Penrose as he stepped aside to reveal Father Enroy.
“Father, I need absolution,” the King uttered.
“Come in my King, it will be my pleasure to absolve you and Penrose both,” returned the holy man.
The King turned to his guards, “You are dismissed. Penrose can escort me back to the castle.”
Penrose said, “Of course, your highness, I shall be certain no harm befalls you.”
“Yes, I feel perfectly safe with you. You are the only protector I shall require this evening,” the King of Donegal confidently stated.
A CALL TO ARMS
TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga) Page 6
