Birth Stone

by Kate Kelley

  She felt a current spark up her spine. Her hands trembled as she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders against the strange cold that suddenly wafted through the air.

  There is truth to what he is saying...but it makes no sense.

  “Edwin.” She let out a huff of air. “How could a King do this by himself? There is no way one single person could damage that much land. What you're accusing is very serious--”

  Edwin's face turned into a sneer. “Lyra, there's much about this world you do not know or understand ”

  Lyra ignored the roll of anger at his insult. “Then teach me. I want to learn.”

  He stared at her, assessing.

  “Magic.” The single word fell from his lips like a dare.

  A sudden electricity sizzled his features, lighting them up as he searched Lyra's face for her reaction. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head, trying to rationalize the conversation.

  “You...you just said yourself magic doesn't exist. It--it may have existed at one time, but like you said, it's been gone for hundreds of years...if it ever had.” She was rambling, reaching for the reins to mount her horse.

  “The gods, now, the gods do allow things to happen. Plagues like this have happened before. You can't blame sicknesses on…something like that. How absurd.” She laughed, but the sound was forced and frail even to her own ears.

  Edwin's voice was hushed, his body inches from hers, “Why is the mainland not as affected by the plague? You do not know the suffering of the rest of Terra, or worse still in other provinces. Hundreds, nay, thousands dead. But Mainland is strong, particularly your village. There's magic here, Lyra, keeping it strong.”

  Chapter 4

  Three Weeks Later

  It was one of those days in early Autumn that tricked your mind. Looking out of the window, the day looked bright and sunny with clear skies, perhaps a last warm day of summer, but when one stepped outside, the rush of cold air shocked the system and sent goosebumps rushing down the limbs. Lyra was enjoying the early autumn weather, her body cozied lazily up to her dashing beau, Edwin Garreson. They lay in a field of long, grass and brush, soft and thick as bears fur. He laid an arm across her middle, his head close to hers, singing a soft tune she had heard many times before about love and lust. It seemed to be his favorite song, though his actions remained as gentlemanly as ever. They hadn’t kissed yet. For some reason this annoyed her. She wanted him to take the initiative like he did that day in the forest, feeding her the elusive blackberry and then taking her to his beautiful dwelling and preparing a dessert just for her. Since that day they had spent almost every day together, reading poetry aloud to one another, riding, taking strolls in the forest, visiting the market a time or two. Seldomly, they lay in fields together away from prying eyes, and simply held each other.

  It was these times when Lyra’s blood thickened, her breath came quicker, and sensations became more electrified. This was the fourth time they had sought solitude, and being in Edwin’s arms was lovely, but it left her wanting more. The desire Lyra felt seemed one-sided, and each time she waited for their first kiss she was sorely disappointed. She had opened herself entirely up to him after months of his constant attention, and now he wouldn’t allow their relationship to further. It confused her to no end. She always concluded he was just being the perfect gentleman, the kind of gentleman she should admire and respect. And yet…

  Leaning closer to him and burying her face in his chest, she inhaled his soapy clean scent. He continued lazily rubbing her upper back, the only form of intimacy he seemed to know how to perform. Lyra decided today was the day she would take it further. She had held back because she didn’t want to offend his finer senses, didn’t want to seem too eager.

  But she wanted that kiss. It had become something of a challenge to her. She needed to know he was attracted to her. Summoning courage, she brushed her cheek against his chest, nuzzling in, before turning more directly into him, her top leg draping lazily over his.

  Edwin adjusted himself up a bit straighter, propped on his elbows, but Lyra quickly turned her face up to his cleanly shaven, smooth fair skin, nuzzling her cheek to his. Edwin froze, and removed his hand from her back. Lyra wasn’t phased. She tilted her head back until her eyes met his. There she saw a smirk under the surface—that kind of smirk that bespoke of his intelligence. It made him seem all-knowing. Their lips were an inch apart, yet his eyes did not dip to her lips.

  “Edwin.” It was a question and a plea.

  She watched his jaw and throat flex, adam's apple bouncing. Suddenly, he grabbed her thigh and Lyra inhaled sharply. She had no time to react before Edwin’s lips crushed into hers, his plump lips sliding along her ready mouth. Her insides quaked, her legs warmed. And just as soon as he had kissed her, he had lifted his head from hers. Lyra’s heart thumped against her ribs, a frantic beat. Edwin curled his fingers into her thigh and removed her leg gently, before standing. Lyra blinked rapidly, brushing her skirt out thoroughly and attempting to regain her composure. Somehow she felt dirty.

  “Edwin, I didn’t mean to—“

  “Knights, for what do I owe the honor?” Edwin’s strange words jolted her and she jerked her head back. Her eye caught the large white steeds and knights atop them just beyond him, no more than six feet in front of him. Her heart lurched into her throat and her stomach bottomed out. How were they so silent? How long had they been standing there? She jumped to her feet and curtsied, then began straightening her hair. She pulled a clump of grass out. Dear gods, how had they found them? What had they seen? Why were they here? Thoughts scrambled for attention in her brain. Edwin spoke smoothly, his face taking on professionalism and poise. “How may I help you this fine day? My lady and I were enjoying a bit of quiet time.”

  The knights’ dead stares revealed no emotion on their dark faces. Lyra realized they were the same knights who had summoned her brother away. She hadn’t thought much of her brother in four sweet weeks, and it had been truly glorious. Seeing the knights now sent her nerves into a tizzy. She felt that forgotten rage rise in her chest like a familiar friend. Her nostrils flared but she betrayed no other emotion. The larger knight unmounted and held up a scroll. Edwin reached for it but the knight evaded his reach and continued toward Lyra. Lyra’s heart lurched. The words flew from her lips before she could stop them.

  “Alec? Is it Alec? Is he alright?” She had never once received a letter from Alec. The knight said nothing. He nudged the scroll toward her and she took it, the smooth, dry parchment sliding across her palm. A bolt of electricity zapped through her head, dimming her surroundings, and she almost fell. Attempting to steady herself, she blinked rapidly as she broke the wax seal with a finger, and unrolled the scroll. Her wide eyes scanned the contents of the paper.

  Deliver to Lyra Addisonia, Loyal Subject of Terra’s Mainland, ward to Aunt Liza Winthrop, on this day September the 28th.

  His majesty, Ruler of Terra and Gem Kingdoms, doth hereby request said subject for reasons beyond the discretion this delicate parchment can provide. Thus, immediate attendance is required to King Terrin’s courts, to be escorted by Knights of the Royal Gem Courts.

  Keep well and may the Gods lift us up,

  High King of Terra, His Royal Majesty,

  King Terrin

  A black looping scrawl at the bottom was his signature, she guessed. The royal insignia, a sword piercing a diamond stamped in blood red wax next to it. Lyra was barely able to comprehend the words, the old-fashioned phrases running together, the meaning almost escaping her. Breathlessly, she eyed the Knights, their statuesque stances awaiting her response. “I am to…t-to…be summoned to…” Her eyes wandered dazedly over to Edwin, whose posture was as tense as a rabbit just sighted by a predator. Eyes bugged out of his head, lips pinched in a stern line, hands clasped behind behind his back until his knuckles blanched white.

  “To meet the King,” he finished her sentence, his tone icy enough to frost morning grass in winter.
He nodded softly, resigned.

  The Knight who had handed her the scroll nodded his head, his shiny silver helmet jostling forward with the movement

  “Straight away, by order of the King himself,” he added brusquely. The other knight walked toward her now, and Lyra realized he was leading a third horse her way. It was white just like the other two, but slightly smaller. She focused on it’s shiny coat, reflecting the autumn noon sun. A gust of cool wind pushed against Lyra’s skirts, sucking them back and revealing the shape of her long legs. Normally she would straighten her skirts and rub her arms, but these weren’t ordinary circumstances. Her skin didn’t feel the cold just now.

  Her mind reeled. She was to meet the King, the same King that stole her brother away for years, the King who was so cowardly that he did not show his face to his people, let alone attempt to explain the Devastation. The King that most people weren’t even sure existed. She was to cross the Harrow Sea, a Sea that many did not venture across and live to tell the tale on the other side.

  Another gale of wind nearly sucked the remaining air from her lungs. She swayed on her feet. As if realizing she may faint, the large knight came in closer and reached out his hand to take her arm. His grip was steel. She stumbled forward, looking helplessly at Edwin. He shook his head, opened his mouth as if he would speak, but then closed it again.

  “Edwin? Help me.” There, she pleaded with him. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him to make an excuse for her, but further words failed her. She screamed at him in her head.

  Tell them we are to be married soon. That I’m with child!Anything!

  He opened his mouth again and she thought he might have somehow heard her silent plea.

  Demand them to let me go. Demand them to fight you like the respected man that you are!

  As if sensing her thoughts, the large knight turned toward Edwin expectantly, silently daring him to speak. When he did not, the knight blinked. “Say farewell to your lady. We ride now.”

  Edwin swallowed and took a cautious step forward. Lyra ran to him and flung her arms around him, pressing her body into his for comfort. His arms hung limply at his sides. All she felt was the chill. Tears prickled her eyes. Edwin finally raised his arms and loosely covered her back, then pulled back, leaving her at arm’s reach. He shook his head again, a strange expression on his face.

  “I’ll be here when you return,” was all he mustered. Lyra shook her head incredulously. She thought he would fight for her.

  He’s in shock.

  Suddenly, angrily, she turned to the small horse and there the knight was waiting, then effortlessly lifted Lyra onto the horse’s back. She reached for the reins but the Knight hesitated, holding the reigns still and looking up at her with deep black eyes full of regret.

  “You will not be harmed in our presence. We will do our best to escort you safely.” Then he turned and mounted his own horse, leading them away in a flurry of dead leaves and dirt and beats of hooves on the cold, hard ground. Tears were streaming freely down Lyra’s cheeks now but she dared not glance back at Edwin. She didn’t see the grimace on his face and the lowering of his eyes.

  She did, however, feel his spirit shrinking away, like a wilting flower. She felt his disappointment, disgust, and a touch of fury buried at the bottom.

  You can’t feel emotions, Lyra. He doesn’t have any, anyhow.

  Bitterly, she wiped at her eyes, closing up her heart and turning off the well of emotions flowing out of her, following the two white knights like beacons of doom in an already blackening world.

  Chapter 5

  Lyra had never been on a ship before. She remembered the numerous times she had watched Alec board and sail away in the large royal ships the King sent him in. She remembered feeling small, standing next to such a machine operate like it was an animal of the sea itself. Now she was on one, sailing toward the Royal Courts of Gem. Captain Jameson sailed them across the Harrow Sea. Her and the two Knights were the only passengers, and she hadn’t seen them in a week. Her stomach was in a permanent knot ever since she had read that summons. Green water slapped the sides of the vessel. She tried to ignore the circular window that separated the murky water and her quarters. Her room was in permanent motion, and bile took its permanent place in her throat.

  As much as she abhorred the sea, in truth, the sailing was just a flick on the larger scale of her fear. She could be drug behind a horse for all it mattered, the journey was only an annoyance compared to the real issue—the King. Her brother. She had run through various scenarios of why she was being called to his Majesty. Some involved her brother being released from his duties--those were the positive ones. Some involved her brother being dead. Some involved her own death as punishment for a crime her brother committed. She remembered the unusual way her brother had been called back only one day after he had arrived in his home village. The thoughts just kept coming, like the lapping of the waves outside her window, slapping her, churning in her mind, and recycling through again.

  How much longer can I be drenched in darkness before never adjusting to the light again?

  She needed answers now more than ever, and she had a feeling she was going to get them, just not her terms. On the King’s terms.

  King of Terra, who ruled them all from across a vicious sea--an island to himself. The same King no one spoke of for fear that he would strike them down for daring to connect the Devastation with the coronation ten years ago. No one would dare blame the King. It simply wasn’t done. This was a loyal people. And the King had eyes everywhere, so it was said. He didn’t reach out to his people at all. The only vague word they got from his majesty was through the magistrates who kept the law, local clergy who boasted the divine essence of the throne, and the occasional privy scholar. Knights were occasionally spotted around the province, assumingly to keep an eye on villages goings on.

  Like the Knights summoning me to the royal courts.

  She sighed.

  I must be nearing my execution. I can only pray I’ll have a trial first. Perhaps I’ll drown at sea before I reach Gem and I can join my parents again.

  Suddenly, her body was thrown forward off the small cot in her quarters with a forceful careen of the ship. Her bottom landed hard on the rough wood panels of the creaking floor.

  “Blast!” She shouted. The curse came out croaked, her only word in seven days. A loud rap at the door made her jump and she hurried to her feet to peer in the circular window on her door. It was Captain Jameson, gray coarse hair stuffed under a black seamen’s hat, a white beard wrapping around a jovial, ruddy face and disappearing neck. She opened the door and offered a barely civil greeting.

  “We’ve hit land.” He studied her relieved face and chuckled. “Was sea-farin’ all tha’ bad for ye, lass? Leavin’ yer quarters a time or two mighta helped a tad.”

  She mustered a lame smile and shook her head. This man was kind, and had kept her brother safe each time he traveled the sea. “It wasn’t bad at all, Captain Jameson, and, truly, your ship is the one I would want to be on for my first experience on the sea.” He smiled sympathetically and offered a pat on her shoulder.

  “Yer brother would be proud o’ ye.” She placed a hand on top of his, accepting his gesture of kindness, and her throat burned with unshed tears. When she didn’t reply, he looked ready to say something else, but she cut him off. She didn’t want to talk about her brother.

  “Well, I best be up and off this fine beast,” she concluded. Captain Jameson nodded and led her through the narrow hallway, past twelve other private quarters and up a steep set of wooden steps.

  Natural light momentarily blinded her as she stepped out onto the deck. When her eyes adjusted, she looked out onto a beach of ash. Her brows furrowed. Captain Jameson chuckled again. “Nothin’ like it, black sand.”

  “Black sand? I’ve never heard of such a phenomenon,” there was wonder in her voice now, excitement layered somewhere underneath.

  She looked at the Captain and there was a twin
kle in his blue eyes. “Tis’ amazin’ what ye see when ye step outside yer door.”

  “I suppose.” Her gaze moved upward, up the black sand beach to the obsidian ruggedly jutting from the land, to bright green bushes that edged a white limestone archway layered with swirls of gold and silver. It stood one hundred feet into the air and was topped with the royal emblem fashioned in iron and painted crimson. A diamond pierced by a sword.

  On both sides of the magnificent archway stood two large knights, larger than the knights that accompanied her—kidnapped her, rather—to the Royal Island. Her Knights appeared just then and nodded to the beach. The air was salty and cool, though the sun baked her. Once down and on the ground, she immediately knelt and touched the sand. A sense of calm encompassed her and her sea-sickness disappeared. It felt just the same as the sand at Harrow Shore, despite the inky color. Digging into the fine sand, she wished she could bottle some up and take home to add to her gem collection. Her gem collection, her most prized possession. She prayed she could return to it.

  How long will I be here? I wasn’t allowed any of my things, not even clothes. I must smell like an onion patch. Gods, maybe they allowed me nothing because the dead don’t need material possessions.

  Trepidation tingled over her skin and she stood on shaky legs. She eyed her surroundings as the Knights lead her to the massive archway; she followed, knowing full well she had no choice. The Knights nodded to the others guarding the entrance to the Islands, and they nodded back, one of them eyeing her closely.

  There’s an awful lot of silent greetings around here.