* * *
Addyean waited quietly behind a rock. It had been too easy to track down the small party. They had left the royal road clean and smooth in their wake. He did not see the king, but he did see quite a few faces that he did recognize, all of whom were friendly. It seemed as if anyone of any import was there. Ah, he thought as he amended his assessment—almost all were friendly. Addyean saw the telltale mop of blond hair emerge from behind the wagon. Addyean had sensed Warren would be there, although, Addyean thought, Warren could be friendly.
When he had told them to leave the day before, he might’ve been thinking of the security interests of the kingdom. Addyean’s years as a royal spy led him to exercise caution in all things he did. This led him to believe the best course was to wait and see what they were doing. So he waited, and observed the forest. There were mostly aspen trees with a few pine trees dotting the landscape. Since it was autumn, the aspen leaves had turned gold and fallen from their respective trees, resulting in a carpet of gold along the forest floor. A stream trickled down from where Addyean stood, and formed a puddle where the king’s party was traveling. The rabbits and other forest creatures scurried about, making their houses ready for winter.
The silence was broken by two conversing knights. Addyean had to lean close, as they were speaking in hushed tones. One of them Addyean recognized as Sir Undbar, a heavyset old knight with a real taste for adventure. The other looked young, and Addyean did not remember seeing him before. The young one seemed to be initiating the conversation, and Sir Undbar just grunted along with him in agreement.
“This whole business is strange, sir,” commented the first. “Hmmgh,” grunted Sir Undbar. “Very strange.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, do you feel as if Warren is accepted here? I mean, I don’t know, but it seems like nobody likes him. Like he doesn’t belong here.”
For the first time Sir Undbar turned and actually seemed to be paying attention to the young one. “You are very perceptive, Sir Stephen. Someday you will make a fine knight, but as for now, we must not speak of anything bad. If the Creator chooses to restore our lord to health, we will see what we can do about Warren. I am not sure we can do anything, for being unlikable is certainly not a crime. I have a sinking feeling he has committed some action against the crown. Yet without proof… it is best not to talk about these things. You would be wise not to discuss them with anyone. We will know all these things at Treshin.”
Sir Stephen seemed to understand a little better, as he nodded and fell silent into his thinking. Addyean pondered these things to himself. He was about to reveal himself, but something was stopping him. Something was not right. And then he knew.
THE QUEEN OF DARKNESS
Girn was lost. Over the last week, he had been trying to find the dwelling of the merfolk. For the first few nights, he had been wandering around the forest looking for Tarthur and Derlin, or at least for their destination. He had seen no signs of any travelers, except for a fire one night. Girn had rushed toward the fire hoping to find his friends, but when he was still a ways off, he had seen that there were three people and three horses, which had made Girn know it was not his friends. In sadness, he had managed to find his way back to Krendon, and he went to apologize to Zelin, and beg Zelin to take him back. But Zelin was not there. Girn had asked around a bit, trying to find any information he could. From what he gathered, Judith was still fuming at Tarthur and Derlin, Zelin and Addyean had been gone a few days, and Morty was telling everyone about how he had single-handedly fought Tarthur and Derlin and given them both bloody noses and now they were afraid to show their cowardly faces anywhere near the town, lest they have to face the wrath of Mortimer.
“So, I stepped to the right, when his ill-timed attack was coming, and then BAM, I smashed my fist right on the bridge of his nose. Of course, the coward called to his friend to come help him out, but I wasn’t bothered. Two ruffians of their sort are hardly a match for a gentleman of my caliber. I therefore offered to defer the conflict to some later time so they could round up five or six cronies to attack me simultaneously, because that’s really the only way the fight would be fair. But the pugnacious villains persisted, and I whirled with my lightning-quick reflexes and made short work of the pair. It’ll probably be some time before their faces heal up enough to come back here again.” The young kids listening to Mortimer looked up at their new hero with bright eyes. Girn didn’t understand half the words, but by Morty’s tone of voice and the way he swung his fists madly around he decided that he was claiming responsibility for driving Tarthur and Derlin from town.
It was funny, Girn reflected, how everyone seemed to have a different story for the boys being absent, yet nobody was bothered about Zelin leaving. It was “normal” for him to do so, but those troublesome boys, stealing away without telling anyone. “I’m just glad he’s not my son,” and “What those boys need is a good old fashioned whipping into shape” were heard many a time, not to mention an occasional “Too bad they aren’t like that Mortimer, now there’s a boy with education and class. He’s such an angel.” (But that was only a very occasional statement.) Of course, Girn didn’t do much talking; he was shy and he still stuttered. But he listened. He listened for two whole days, sometimes staying in the shadows, sometimes straying into the open. Many times the people conversing did not even notice him. Years of living quietly had taught Girn many things. It had made him a very good listener.
There were no other ways open to him. His master was gone who-knows-where. His friends were swimming with mermaids, and Girn was all alone. In the back of his mind, Girn knew he probably could’ve stayed with any number of people in the town, but he was too embarrassed to ask. He started to tell himself that the people would just laugh at him and send him away, even as he knew it was not true. However, having convinced himself, Girn decided that the best course of action was to try and make it to the shoals of the merfolk and see what he could find there. He had proceeded to procure some food and other supplies from Judith’s kitchen when she was absent. When being questioned by Morty and a burly looking guard, he admitted that he wasn’t quite sure how all of those things had gotten into his pack. (He must’ve set his pack down and Judith put them in.) When they failed to believe his obviously true story, he had taken off into the forest. Tarthur always said, “If all else fails, run until your legs fall off.” Thinking of Tarthur made Girn’s spirits rise, and he had set off on his journey. He spent the next few days wandering vaguely northward, entangled in a mess of trees and shrubs.
This brought him up to the present. Girn was sitting and eating a piece of bread and some cheese. He once again thought how lucky he was to have remembered to stock up on food. Yet, always one to plan for the future, Girn was beginning to be worried. While still not critical, his food supply was disappearing, and he did not know where he could get more, since he could not return to Krendon. Worse still, his water was going low, he had not seen a stream in the last two days, and no one had told him that wine only makes you thirstier. He had to find the merfolk in the next few days. Right then, as he stood up to go on his way, a bright flash of light hit him between the eyes. As he walked forward, another flash followed the first. Covering his eyes with his forearm, Girn went up the slope. At the top, he saw what had been causing the light. It was the ocean. And there were mermen in it.
* * *
The throne room of Queen Marhyn was as enormous as it was chilling. Nearly five hundred meters long and two hundred meters wide, it was made of an eerie dark blue marble. It seemed as if the marble was absorbing the light around it, and as Tarthur found as his hand accidentally strayed across it, it was very cold to the touch. There was not much ornamentation, except for magic objects and symbols arranged neatly about the sides of the room. The chamber angled to the throne against the back wall. Queen Marhyn’s throne was solid black onyx, and immense. It was in fact so immense that it was a full fifteen meters tall, with a seat at the top. The cold blue chamber matche
d the black throne very well, and it gave Tarthur a sense of the deep power that was there. He felt this was an old power, older even than Zelin. Since Zelin and Tustor were the only powers that Tarthur had known in his life, it seemed to him as if they were the only ones that existed. Yet, even with them, he had never felt power like this. The cold chilled him to his very soul, and it made him very, very afraid.
The cold did not seem to bother Lithar Lifehater at all. If anything, he seemed more comfortable here than in the warm, living outside. Tarthur was pretty sure the name Lifehater was not his family name. As Tarthur was watching the dark man, he abruptly stopped and saluted. Tarthur turned and he did not have to guess who he was saluting.
Queen Marhyn was dressed in black robes and all that was uncovered was her face, which was human and vaguely pretty. It had the kind old mother look in it, and it seemed to Tarthur that she was almost kind. She seemed caring enough, and started to speak with warm and amiable words. Tarthur was one to give everyone he met a chance. Suddenly the air was filled with the smell of warm food as a table of hot bread, stew, and meat came forth. The bread was the best kind, steaming hot with butter just melting down the sides.
“I’m so glad you could come,” she said. She seemed to be talking more to Tarthur than the others. “I do get very lonely down here. Maybe…wait, I forget myself. Please sit down and eat. I’m sure you must be so hungry.”
“Well, yes,” stammered Tarthur. “I was just thinking…”
“How good the bread looks,” she finished.
This caught Tarthur off guard. He had two thoughts. One was, “and the meat looks good also.” This was quickly chased out of his mind by the other—“she can read my mind! She knows what I am thinking!”
This terrified Tarthur. He was so scared, he could not walk, move, or even think, and for a while he forgot to breathe. Tarthur was the kind of person who normally was not frightened easily. He would try anything, scale any cliff, cross any river, jump over any rock, and tell anyone he was ugly to his face, all without being afraid. Oh, he had been a tad worried he would be caught at this or that, and one time he was concerned that his master the blacksmith would disown him, and now and then he thought he was going to die, but nothing like this, ever.
He glanced at the table wonderingly and then back at the cold object of his terror. Instead, he saw Dalin. The elf had positioned himself between Tarthur and Queen Marhyn. In his eyes, Tarthur could see the shining clear message. Don’t touch the food! Tarthur was glad for the break Dalin had made between him and the Dark Lady, especially because Dalin had to put his back to her. In a time like this Tarthur looked for the most adult person around.
Then Dalin was out of the way again, and Tarthur was facing the Dark Lady once more. Her soothing voice flowed out through the room. “Why don’t you sit down and eat. You must be just famished.”
“Well, actually, I’m fine.” Tarthur’s hastily stammered reply wasn’t fooling anyone.
She continued. “I had my close personal friend try not to overfeed you as he helped you come here for your vacation.” Close personal friend? More like fiend, Tarthur thought. And this a vacation? Either he had learned the meaning of the word wrong (which had happened at least a few times) or this was no vacation. Tarthur cursed himself for thinking. It was hard to get used to the idea that his thoughts weren’t even his anymore. He looked up quickly to see Queen Marhyn’s reaction.
Her face had not changed.
This made Tarthur wonder. Could she really read his thoughts? He decided to try something. In his mind, Morty ran up the steps to the throne and grabbed Queen Marhyn. This wasn’t what the real Morty was like, because in Tarthur’s mind Morty seemed uglier, stupider, and fatter than he really was. In fact, all of Morty’s good traits were overlooked, and his bad ones were magnified. This bad impersonation of Morty then immediately proceeded to give Queen Marhyn a big full kiss, right smack on the lips. Queen Marhyn turned into a frog, grew wings, and flew away. Soon she hit the ceiling and fell, landing on her head on the throne. Tarthur had to bite his cheek hard to keep from laughing. He looked up again.
Her face still had not changed.
So, he thought. She either was incapable of laughter or fear at being kissed by Morty, or she could not always read his mind. Although, as he reflected later, both were probably true, at the time he concluded that she could not always read his mind. After deciding this, he felt a wave of relief sweep over him. He resolved to still be careful though.
“Well,” she said, feigning disappointment. “If you aren’t hungry now perhaps we could talk. It isn’t every day that I get to talk to someone who is as young as you who has so much power. Actually, I have never seen someone with so much power who was not old and past his prime.”
As she talked, she seemed to become much younger, although, was it just a trick of the light? Suddenly Tarthur found her very desirable, and he wanted to do anything to have her.
“Maybe you could come to my quarters so I could give you some more personal attention. I am looking for a man such as yourself to share in my rule over the world. What do you say?”
“No!” It was Derlin who replied. Almost forgotten in the conversation until now, he had boldly stepped forward to voice his objections. “Tarthur, she’s evil. Can’t you see? She wants to use you to get what you have.”
Hearing Derlin speak seemed to return Tarthur to his senses. When Queen Marhyn saw that she had lost her hold over them, she sighed, as if she was being done a great injustice. “Well, until you change your mind…”
Suddenly a black and blue clad soldier came and took them away, down the hall and away from the throne room.
* * *
“Truly disgusting, my queen.” In one of the secret and dark rooms of Queen Marhyn’s castle, (the fortress was literally full of them) Lithar Lifehater and Queen Marhyn were holding a secret council. Also present was Tyven Scarface, Admiral of Marhyn’s newly formed navy. In a way, Tyven was the opposite of Lithar. Lithar had been born a man, and converted part way to darker things. He still kept a human appearance, so that anyone one who didn’t see him from very close, or didn’t look under his clothes, would believe him to be human. Tyven, on the other hand, had began as a hideously deformed creature created by Marhyn’s magic as an “experiment.” Later in life, he expressed a desire to be human, so to command more respect in the world of men. Because he had been such a faithful servant, and because he was somewhat of a favorite of Queen Marhyn’s, she had summoned all her magicians and they had worked together to do what they could. The result was a creature not unlike a man, but whose face was still a tangled mass of scars. Tyven said very little, because talking was hard for him and it strained his jaw muscles, which were very weak. Just a few months ago, Marhyn had sensed something, and said the time was right for war. They had then set to vigorous work building shipyards and turning out ships and captains and their crews as fast as they could. Tyven was the natural choice for the leader, both because of his ruthless nature, and because when he was “created” he had fins instead of hands and he was always in the ocean. There were those willing to join the crew for some gold. Partly because of this and partly to build new prison space, Marhyn had begun a vast excavation project deep into the Rune Mountains. Only two other people were anywhere close to the trio, and they were both servants who once hadn’t been productive. (Tarthur was lucky that he was not born as one of Marhyn’s servants, a similar fate would’ve certainly awaited him.) Queen Marhyn had heard that they were fond of idle talk on the job. In order to help them past this difficulty, and to give the other workers more incentive, she had cut off their ears and ripped out their tongues. Now they were used for special councils and other things that required absolute secrecy. Still, they weren’t even allowed in the same room.
“Nothing necessary is wrong, Lithar.” Marhyn often used this saying; it was one of her favorites. “I tried to persuade him with an old mother appearance that I cared for him, but his mind is too strong,
and it was already set against me.”
“Could you not enter his thoughts?” The question was from Tyven. Lithar had told Tyven about the encounter and could tell that he thought something was strange about it. Tyven wondered why his queen did not simply enter his mind and destroy his thought, like she did to so many. This burning curiosity had been enough to prompt him to ask his halting question. Lithar had wondered the same thing.
“That is very strange,” she answered. “While I was able to observe him closely and see certain things about him, I was blocked from his inner thoughts. I dare not send my life-force to interact with his mind directly. If Darhyn controls him that could be disastrous for our future plans. Still, some things came through to me. I even felt he was mocking me once.”
“What was so strong that it blocked you?” This time the question was Lithar’s.
“I don’t know it. I have never felt it before. Who were they in contact with recently?” Marhyn thought and then answered her own question. “The only two powers they could have been with are that wizard named Zelin and the merwizard.” She looked at Lithar. “What did you feel when you felt the Water Orb being used?”
“I just felt its use, nothing more.”
Marhyn nodded. “When he used it, I felt that he used it to bring the merwizard back to life. If he would have had help from the Council of Gurus, Tustor could’ve placed that spell on Tarthur. Still, I think I would’ve been able to recognize their shield. Besides, you know how isolationist they are. They don’t usually interfere in the affairs of men.”
Lands of Daranor: Book 01 - DreamQuest Page 7
