by H. R. Holt
Thomas heard movement behind him and turned to see one of the servants standing with her hand on one of the doorknobs. He smiled and raised his head, wanting her to go on with what she was going to say.
“My lord, there’s been a disruption at the marketplace,” she said quietly. He knew that, if he didn’t have excellent hearing, he would be unable to hear her. All the servants were quiet and afraid of him, which was as they should be.
“What sort of disruption? Is it something out of the ordinary? You know I don’t handle petty disruptions,” he said with a frown.
Instead of waiting for her reply, he looked towards the town again. If the commotion had been unordinary, he would have sensed something. He hadn’t. Or was his judgment clouded by his adoration for Reverie? He couldn’t recall a time when he didn’t love her. When she’d been put under his supervision, he’d found her smile charming, her laugh enjoyable, and her body tempting. He still found them the same, even though he wished he’d known her when she was a lover of learning. She was nothing but an empty shell now.
Suddenly, he realized who always could sneak around under his nose: Windrew, his half brother on his mother’s side. He was older, part wizard, and detested his younger brother if only for whom he was. Thomas realized Windrew didn’t know of Reverie’s existence. If he did, finding her would be his next step, because she possessed a power far greater than anyone alive. Who, then, was asking questions about her? Could he have met someone else who knew of Reverie? He didn’t know.
The servant spoke again. “Sir, it is an uncommon disruption. The man who reported it said that there was a man at the marketplace who was looking for someone who goes by the name of Reverie Reagan. He said that you told everyone to report anyone who knows that name or asks about it, and that he will be rewarded.”
Thomas continued looking at the town, wondering how he could have missed someone besides Windrew sneaking into Peniolea. The very scent of good made him queasy. Had his brother used some sort of spell to prevent him from sensing good? He didn’t know. He felt as if he hardly knew anything that was going on, though he’d dedicated his life to the end of all good.
Thomas dismissed the girl with a wave of his hand, but not before he sized her up. She would do fine to appease his appetite for flesh this evening. There was a reason he took in female servants, and he knew they understood the reason. Despite that, he doubted they knew who he was beneath his skin, which was why they often tempted him.
He had business to tend to now, and that started with going to market.
***
“This is madness!”
Windrew began pacing back and forth, his arms crossed in front of him, letting his long dark hair cascade all about his shoulders. He was a handsome man, possessed the body that his younger brother often craved, but one could tell they were related by their eyes. They were dark, able to observe every detail in one glance, and gave the impression they could see the very depths of someone’s soul. Windrew, who was a wizard of the second order, had powers that would always remain stronger than his half brother. After all, he was firstborn.
He was standing in his cave home beside the Regado Sea, the breeze of which wafted through the opening and met his nostrils. He loved the sea. When he was a child, he often went there with his parents. His mother, Cailah, who was considered the most beautiful woman in the entire Cathene Continent, would throw her head back and let the wind blow through her blonde hair. She would smile lovingly at her husband, Darough, and Windrew could sense the adoration they had for one another. It was a love that would forever last, even when Uschar, a demon prince, slay Darough and bedded Cailah.
Windrew tried to keep from thinking about the life him and his mother led after Darough was murdered. He threatened revenge, but he never got the chance to do anything about what happened. Uschar was murdered by another father’s son that was older than Windrew by almost a decade. He knew the man well, had served beside him since he was seventeen, and was more or less his right arm. Captain Mcquay often requested his services as a wizard and as a healer, traits he’d acquired from his parents. The younger man always accepted the request with heart, even when the odds were stacked against them.
Windrew was now going after his half brother, Thomas. He couldn’t understand at first why he wouldn’t use his real name instead of the one Cailah was forced to give him. He then realized the name ‘Thomas’ was to prevent him from being attacked so easily. Windrew had created many spells to prevent Thomas, or Helicale, from ever detecting his presence. They had all worked successfully, but they wouldn’t be beneficial in the slightest if his accomplice kept asking questions about some unknown by the name Reverie Reagan.
Windrew looked at the man kneeled before him on the floor, then looked at the two guards standing on either side of him. He laced his hands behind his back and shook his head at the man. Man? He was still a child with wild ideas and trying to live his fantasies. He didn’t understand the severity of what he’d done, but Windrew was curious to find out if he’d discovered anything.
“You may go,” he told the guards.
He watched them go, and saw a figure from beside the wall pursue them. The figure was that of his wife, Anekaya. She was trying to remain invisible, undetectable, but her shadow gave her away. He could tell by how svelte her silhouette was that the body couldn’t possibly belong to anyone else. Windrew further knew why she was here: she wanted him to pass judgment. After all, when someone asked for Reverie Reagan, who no one was sure was an actual person, that particular someone was asking for trouble. Anekaya must have realized that he wasn’t going to do anything to the younger man.
Windrew turned back to the rule breaker, gestured for him to rise. He knew that this boy wasn’t from the Cathene Continent the first time he’d ever met him. He further knew that the boy was on a mission to find someone. Windrew had heard him mention her name, Reverie, on more than one occasion. At first, the wizard had doubted the mortal, and was only just realizing Reverie was, indeed, a human. When he’d asked about Reverie Reagan only last week, he could tell by the looks on people’s faces that they knew what he was talking about. Windrew needed more information.
“What did you discover, Isaac?”
Isaac smiled. “She’s obviously alive.”
“Do you have a picture of this girl? I know you said it’s been four years, but perhaps she hasn’t changed all that much,” Windrew stated, doubting his own words. “I could have a portal set up for you, so that you can go back to your world and obtain it if you don’t have it with you.”
Isaac smiled. He had a picture of Reverie. It was taken only weeks before her disappearance, when she was celebrating her birthday party. She was smiling and her hair was up, her eyes full of laughter. She was the reason he pushed on when he felt as if he couldn’t take a step further.
If it took an entire lifetime, he would find her because he regretted not being there for her the day she disappeared. He avoided her, drove another direction when he saw her running in the rain. Although he’d tried to save her, he should never have left her side in the first place. The darkness within his soul, left there by that strange woman in black, still remained with one part of his heart belonging solely to Reverie. He had to find her.
Isaac retrieved the picture from his pocket and handed it to Windrew. There were several creases in the picture, from having undergone everything from bad weather to battles that seemed as if they would never end. She’d been with him that entire time, even when his friends thought he was crazy for thinking so. He’d fallen asleep here and there, staring up at the ceiling or at the stars with her on his mind. He remembered her love for books, the way she embraced nature with all that she was, the moments of silence when they stared at each other, and how nervous she was that day when she apologized. When he recalled her rambling, he couldn’t stop smiling. She was wonderful.
Windrew looked from the picture to Isaac. “May I borrow this for a minute? I promise that I won’t hurt it i
n anyway. As a matter of fact, I’ll give it back to you as good as new.”
Isaac hesitated, gulped. “Sure.”
Windrew nodded, thanked him, and started towards the opening of the cave. Isaac followed, wondering what the wizard was going to do with the picture. He didn’t ask aloud, but he found his heart beating heavily in his chest. Was he ever going to see the picture again? Was he ever going to see Reverie again? He didn’t know, but at least the picture always gave him hope.
When he exited the cave, Windrew looked towards the beach below him, realizing his soldiers were waiting for orders. He’d called them out this morning to speak with them, and he now knew who it was about: Reverie Reagan. He said a few words to the picture and the creases disappeared; then he said some more and a ghost of the image floated towards the sky. He transformed it so that it was larger, and handed the original back to Isaac.
“Has anyone seen this girl?” he inquired the crowd. “She is important in what is taking place in Peniolea. I want the entire kingdom turned over until we find this girl. If you find her, do not do anything. Await my orders. You are dismissed.”
Before he could turn around, he heard someone call his name. He looked down and saw a man with bright orange red hair. Windrew could tell by this man’s expression what he was about to say, so he turned and looked at Isaac. The younger man knew as well and he was smiling.
The man shakily stated, “I’ve seen this girl.”
***
Reverie paced the floor of her bedroom, contemplating what she should wear for the evening’s banquet, which had been mentioned in detail by her father in his last letter. The blue dress would go with her eyes, but then there was the pale brown dress made of foreign silk that went well with her hair. She thought about how others would receive her in each, knowing the gentlemen would like her no matter what she did or didn’t wear. She laughed when she recalled her brief encounter with Otis near the river.
The breeze from the open window was more than welcome, since she often enjoyed nature when it wasn’t filthy. She detested dirt and mud, which was why she’d had to avoid Otis’s embrace. He hadn’t bathed in some time and smelled of body odor, as well as some local whore. The only kind of filth she could stand was created by her own mind. She smiled at this.
When she was little, her father had her share a room with her older sister, Milena, who was considered the one to increase the value of the Ojala name. Although the girls got along rather well, Reverie knew Milena never valued anyone as much as herself. Reverie was often punished for saying something so negative, but it turned out being true. The first chance Milena got, she married a stable boy and left Peniolea, never to be seen again. Their father disowned her, and let Reverie move into the largest bedroom.
Reverie sat down on her bed and looked at the two dresses being held by her maidservants. Their drab faces told her how long they’d been standing in the same spot. She looked at the younger maid, Mona, for a second, recognizing her floral scent from somewhere else. Without changing her expression, Reverie realized that Mona was the ‘local whore’ Otis was seeing. She wasn’t so bad looking, really, but she wasn’t as beautiful as her employer’s daughter.
Mona brushed a loose light brown strand behind her ear, and Reverie found her eyes trailing the maid’s slender neck. Her eyes alighted on the cleavage emerging from the low neckline, knowing her breasts were why Otis had made love to her. He had an affinity for breasts.
“I believe I’ll go with the brown,” she said and dismissed the other servant with a wave of her hand.
After the door closed, Reverie bounded off the bed and walked over to Mona. She took the dress and placed it on the bed, looking at it once more, fascinated at how the light made it seem as though the dress were different shades of brown. After she did, she walked over to Mona, who didn’t meet her eyes.
“Where is Otis?”
Mona quickly turned, her breasts not heaving for a second. She began crying and put her head in her hands. Reverie blinked, not expecting this reaction from her servant. She had expected surprise, but not tears. After all, the local women had as much chance with Otis as she did. He wasn’t a man of bearing, unless his muscles and attractive features were taken into consideration.
“Oh, Ms. Ojala, it’s just awful!” Mona wailed. “It’s beyond awful. I haven’t been able to think of anything since I saw it.”
Reverie furrowed her brows, found herself patting Mona’s back. She detested the scratchy fabric and pulled her hand away and tried being consoling. She came out scathing. “What are you talking about? Could you control your emotions? It’s not as if he died.”
Mona wiped her eyes, cleared her throat, and took a deep breath. “The king had him wounded by one of his henchmen. They took his… his…” She began gesturing towards her lower torso. Reverie understood what was trying to be said. “…and they fed it to his dog. His dog is one of those tiny little dogs. You know the ones.”
Reverie’s mouth dropped open. “He wouldn’t!”
Mona nodded rapidly. “He did. I saw it. After they did that, they threw him in a cage and…”
“Is he still alive?” Reverie asked. She felt motivated to do what she needed to do, even if that meant charging into the castle and murdering the king herself. Even though Otis had his faults, he didn’t have many and he didn’t need to be punished this way. It was cruel and unusual!
“The town right now is no place for a lady,” Mona stated. “It’s filled with criminals…”
“Is he alive?” Reverie repeated, grabbing hold of her servant’s arm. “I need to know if he’s alive.”
Mona bowed her head. “He’s alive.”
Reverie retrieved her cloak and grabbed Mona’s arm, pulling her out of the room. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something. There was a fury growing in her heart unlike anything she’d ever felt, possessing her. If Mona hadn’t agreed to accompany her, she was sure she would have done something drastic to the loyal servant.
When they exited the house, the sunlight looked down on them, threatening to end the mission before it had started. The guards looked at them with curiosity, so Reverie brought one of them, Brornar, into the situation. He was a burly man with dark skin, towered over them at 6’9, and had a desire to please. Reverie only told him that she was going into town, not stating for what reason, but knew he didn’t believe her. When she told him that she would explain along the way, he seemed happy with the answer and walked with them to the separate stables, of which there were three: one for servants; one for the Ojala’s, and one for the guests.
Reverie’s horse, Ash, was dark gray. It seemed to know its mistress was ready to ride, because he began pawing at the ground and nickering. She ran her hands through his mane, said a brief hello, and then began preparing him for travel. After she finished, she met up with Brornar and Mona near the servant’s stable. They were sharing a horse, which looked as if it would collapse any second. Reverie knew it was a better idea for Mona to ride with her, and the horse looked at her with a sense of relief.
While they rode along, Mona explained the situation to Brornar, who listened intently. He knew the king well, had been his bodyguard at one point in time, and scared both women when he said they could be riding into a trap. As Reverie looked around the tree-shaded road, which dipped down on each side into more earth, she wondered if they would be attacked. She remembered the king’s fixated gaze on her when she realized he was looking, and thought each time that he would approach her about his passionate intentions. She had hoped he would have the decency to do so, but perhaps this was his way of doing it.
Without warning, Ash shied and two groups of thugs came from each side of the road. Reverie lost her hold on the reins when Mona’s body ramming against hers, knocking the breath out of her. She slid off the horse and landed hard on her rear, watching the groups for a second as they became one and rushed towards the horses. Instead of waiting for them to snatch her, she bounded
to her feet and looked over her shoulder. The sunshine beckoned her, offered safety, and would mean she was close to home.
