The Enchanted Castle (Shioni of Sheba Book 1)

by Marc Secchia

  Azurelle was still snivelling. “The beastly, horrible, rotten old witch! She bottled me…”

  It was a thought to sicken the stomach. But Shioni’s mind was racing now. “We can’t strike Kalcha, she just swats people like flies. But what would happen if we killed the python, Zi? No, we can’t, arrows just bounce off its skin…”

  “The python upholds the curse,” Zi said. “Did I tell you how glad I am that you saved me?”

  “The eyes!” Shioni almost shouted. “The power of a witch is in the eyes!”

  Zi grabbed her thumb in alarm. “What are you doing? Don’t shake me around or I’ll fall, Shioni–my wings aren’t working yet!”

  “Sorry. Arrows–ah, here,” said Shioni, scrabbling for Annakiya’s slim bow and quiver stowed behind the door. “We’ll shoot that python!”

  “In the eye? Great idea!” Azurelle gasped as Shioni darted out of the doorway and down the corridor. “Isn’t it up the baobab though?”

  Shioni popped the Fiuri–not without a squawk of protest–into her tunic pocket, and slung the quiver over her shoulder. She nocked an arrow to the bow. The bow’s draw wasn’t as strong as hers, but it was made in the same style and it would have to do.

  The courtyard was a chaotic scene. Wasabi were everywhere, battling the warriors of Sheba. She saw Mama crashing a saucepan from her kitchen upon a Wasabi head. Three Sheban archers on the battlements were calmly picking target after target, downing the hyena-painted Wasabi warriors as though they were enjoying target practice. But hordes of Wasabi were streaming into the castle now. Prince Bekele was backed into a corner, grimly holding off two warriors who were taking turns jabbing at his head with their spears. Fire licked hungrily around the stable doorway. And the witch was standing in the gateway, arms crossed, watching it all with an evil smirk upon her lips.

  Crouching, Shioni scuttled along the wall toward the baobab, trying to find a clear view of the python. Its wicked red eyes were glinting like unearthly rubies in the bright moonlight. To her mind it appeared to be gloating over the destruction of the castle and the demise of West Sheba.

  “Wait!” Zi shrilled. “It won’t work, Shioni. Give me your arrow–the tip of it.”

  Shioni ducked down even lower. “Er–what are you doing?”

  “Hurry up, no time to argue.”

  “Okay… here.”

  Azurelle seized the sharp arrowhead and pressed it against her arm. “I might not have much magic left, but I do have my blood.”

  “Zi… are you sure?”

  “You said arrows bounce off that monster, right?” Azurelle hissed as she pierced herself with the point. “This might be enough to pierce her spell. It’s all I can offer, Shioni. Now shoot!”

  Trying to shut out the mayhem around her, hoping against hope that the arrow would fly true, Shioni took aim at the python’s head. As she sighted along the shaft, she was distracted by the sight of the Fiuri’s blood glowing golden on the arrow’s tip and steaming slightly into the cool night air. Blood of liquid gold? How curious! She deliberately shut it out and concentrated on the shot. But the moment the bowstring twanged, she knew she had missed. The arrow flashed through the branches and disappeared into the night. She pulled out another arrow before shaking her head. “There’s just no way, I can’t make that shot.”

  “Yes you can,” said Zi. “You have to. Give me that arrow.”

  “Zi, no. It’s too difficult–”

  “Give me that arrow!” The Fiuri jabbed it into her leg. A furious Fiuri, Shioni thought inanely, transfixed by the sight of the arrow being withdrawn with a golden smear upon its tip. What on earth was a Fiuri made of? Nothing on earth, most probably.

  But as she took the arrow with a trembling hand, Zi’s smile was gentle and her voice as clear as a tinkling bell. “Think of the people you love, Shioni, and trust your heart. You can do this.”

  Shioni wiped her eyes. It took her several tries to nock the arrow. She forced herself to breathe slowly. She told herself there was no screaming, no fire, no women and children locked in the armoury, no fallen warriors, no witch, no tree… just the eye…

  When she was quite empty, the arrow arced upward.

  The python’s jewelled right eye shattered. The arrow pierced through to its brain, and the python exploded in a searing flash of fire that lit up the courtyard. Ash floated down from the baobab’s branches. Kalcha screamed. Clutching her heart, the witch screamed such a piercing, inhuman note, that it brought the whole battle to a standstill. Then she crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

  The Wasabi were stunned. Some turned tail at once. Others milled about in confusion or dropped their weapons where they stood. But one group rallied around the fallen body of their leader, bundled her into the chariot, and bolted for the hills, along with the warriors still outside the castle. The Sheban pursuit was slow. Too many had fallen. Too many of the Elites were still injured and unconscious after their first clash with the witch. But those still standing within the castle quickly subdued the remaining Wasabi, and then poured outside to cut their comrades free.

  The slaves fell to putting out the fires and leading the horses to safety, while the women and children were let out of the armoury to find their loved ones. They began to line up the wounded in the courtyard and tend their hurts.

  And so the battle of Castle Asmat was won.

  Chapter 27: The General Tells a Story

  “I have an apology to make,” said General Getu. “Now, sit.”

  He looked as though the day’s events had wrung him out, leaving an exhausted husk of a man in their wake. The General was lying in bed, propped up on several cushions, and his good arm rested atop the thick fur covers. Someone had carefully bundled him up and made him comfortable. The burned left side of his face was in shadow. Shioni wondered if he had arranged the room that way on purpose.

  “No, don’t kneel, for God’s sake! I couldn’t bear it right now. I should be the one bowing to you.”

  Ducking her head in embarrassment, Shioni moved to perch on the three-legged stool at his bedside. No General would ever bow to her! But what did he want of her now? A few hours ago, she had already spoken to the General, his Captains, Prince Bekele, Princess Annakiya, and Mama Nomuula. The General’s words had made her glow, ‘You’ve proven your loyalty to Sheba, Shioni.’ Even the Prince had agreed.

  What was so important it could not wait for the morning?

  “It’s late, but the pain keeps me awake,” he said. “Thank you for seeing me, Shioni. Relax. You look like you’re sitting on a cactus.”

  It was the first joke she had ever heard pass his lips. Shioni didn’t know how to respond. He laughed, but then hissed through his teeth and closed his eyes. After a moment, he said:

  “Shioni, I have hated you since the first day I saw you.”

  She nearly fell off the stool. “My Lord?”

  “Oh yes. It’s not too strong a word. You might not have known, save I showed you plain in what I said the day you came down from the mountains.” He rubbed his eyes–was it tears he was wiping away? “I am so sorry,” he added. “I was disappointed, angry, and so full of ill-feeling toward you, which you had done nothing to deserve. I wish I could take those words back, every one of them. And afterward, I wished I could take back the years too.”

  “I… I just don’t understand.”

  The General sighed heavily. “I am not yet old, but I do love to tell stories like an old man. Will you indulge me for just a while?”

  Shioni smiled a thin smile. “I’m listening, General.”

  “When I was a young man, I fell in love with a ferengi slave. I was an officer in the King’s army, and while it was accepted that a man should marry, he should never ever marry a slave. That was the law even then. But we had a daughter, a little girl with blonde hair, just like yours.”

  “Blonde?”

  “A word from over the seas,” he explained. “And how I loved her! As my daughter grew older she began to look more and m
ore like me, however, until there were whispers around the barracks and the court. I had made up my mind to try to send them away quietly. But they lived in the slave quarters at the bottom of the gardens of the palace grounds, next to the river. And that year–” his voice cracked “–there must have been a great storm somewhere up the river. The waters rose suddenly in the night and swept the whole slave quarters away. I never saw them again.”

  The General lay still for several minutes, his chest rising and falling as if in sleep. Shioni waited patiently. When he spoke again, his tone was even darker than before. “My ill fortune might have ended there, save that I went looking for adventure–and for revenge. I was a bitter, broken man. I wanted to die in glorious battle. Having spoken to a witch, I crossed over the Red Sea, like the Kings of Sheba after me, resolved to seek the home of the dragons.”

  Shioni’s chair almost tipped over, as she was leaning so far forward in her fascination with his story. The General chuckled, “Yes, legends of dragons in these mountains are true. No, I will not tell you where to find them. You have enough troubles already. And yes, they are powerful. So powerful, they merely toyed with me and took my hand as punishment for daring to seek them out. They did not stoop to kill me. It was beneath them.”

  “Scarred, beaten and humiliated, yet still alive, I returned to Sheba. But there was one final memento from my trip I didn’t learn about until five years later. Call it a dragon’s present, if you wish.”

  “Which was…?”

  “I have a son, Shioni. He is already huge, and growing every year.”

  Her eyes grew wide. She breathed, “Talaku!”

  “Right. Talaku. He too is marked by the dragon,” said the General, nodding. “Because of the dragon-venom that bite left in my blood, my son is tougher, stronger, and bigger than other men. He has not stopped growing even into his thirtieth year. And he is also, despite Mama Nomuula’s medications, slowly but surely–oh God! He’s going insane. He knows it too.”

  It was too much to absorb all at once. Poor Getu, who had lost so much in his life. Now he was losing his son too. And poor Talaku! To know that he was going mad… she could hardly imagine his agony. She thought back to their conversation. He had been gentle with her, apart from the bad joke about sharpening his axe on her belly. She had seen nothing in his manner or speech that suggested madness.

  “I fear for him,” said Getu. “He has never been beaten before. And I don’t know what damage that blow to his head might have caused.”

  There was one obvious question, of course. “Why tell me all this?” she said. “These are deep secrets, surely?”

  General Getu looked directly at her now. “I wanted you to understand a little of what has marked my life, Shioni, before you took my outburst too much to heart. For too long, I have allowed the mere sight of you to bring back memories of what I lost. I became bitterer, and lonelier, than a man should ever be. I forgot how to be happy. And yet, I had hope for what you might become–hope you proved, and more, by saving all of our skins. That’s why, when you came back from the mountains having broken the King’s law, I was so enraged. I am very, very sorry for my hateful behaviour. Will you forgive me?”

  Shioni blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. “I wish I could bring your daughter back.” Her cheeks developed pink spots. “I mean, oh! That was stupid.”

  The General let a smile touch his lips. “No, I understand. I used to want my daughter back too, but death is death and she lives in the beyond now. However, I also don’t want you to feel like you’ve no friends in this world.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.” She swallowed. “I–well, this slave thinks you’re making too much of a fuss over–”

  “In life, Shioni, we should never think ourselves too mighty–or too small. Did you ever wonder why I took Captain Dabir to task?”

  “To teach him how to eat cow dung and lice?”

  They both laughed. “Ooh,” groaned the General, holding his side. “Don’t make me laugh. Dabir was just a blunt instrument. No, it was to teach Prince Bekele a lesson. Several lessons, in fact. Pray he has learned them, or we’ll all suffer, young lady.”

  That was a bit franker than she was expecting!

  “Too honest for you?” said Getu, reading her mind perfectly. “The Prince has much work to do to redeem himself. I could argue I am doing this for Sheba’s sake–unleashing you, Shioni. That would be true, and consistent with what I observe in you. But the selfish reason is to release myself from this hatred which has harmed and spoiled so much of these years.”

  “It’s forgotten already,” said Shioni, remembering something Mama had once said. It would have felt far too mean to hold those words against him. And immediately, she felt a weight roll off her shoulders too. How odd, and unexpected!

  “I will issue orders to my warriors,” said Getu. “The Princess’ bodyguard must be properly trained, not treated like a stray dog.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.”

  His finger stabbed at her like a dagger. “I will tell them they are not to go easy on you, or they will be punished. For your part, I expect nothing but your best.”

  Ah, this must be the infamous Getu double-edged sword Mama had warned about. Shioni smiled. He really was a leader through and through.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Shioni explained Mama’s assessment of his ways of getting what he wanted. The General started chuckling. “Oh, she said that, did she? That woman’s tongue is sharper than an adder’s fangs! Oh… God, I think I need to rest. I feel sick.”

  She rose at once. “Can I bring you anything, my father?”

  It slipped out. Shioni couldn’t believe herself. Her face grew redder and redder, until it must have resembled a large beetroot. General Getu’s head jerked on the pillows as though he had been slapped. He stared at her. His eyes were choked with emotions that Shioni couldn’t even begin to name.

  “No, nothing,” he grated, finally.

  Shioni fled.

  Chapter 28: The Enchanted Castle

  Early in the morning, a beautiful, still morning and the third after the battle for Castle Asmat had been won, Shioni paused in the doorway of Annakiya’s chamber for a quiet chuckle. Now here was a sight. Azurelle, preening in the mirror as usual. The Fiuri was astonishingly vain at times, but so honest and droll about it that it was impossible not to forgive her this failing. And Annakiya too, who was having Mama Nomuula braid her hair as befitted a Princess, as Shioni was learning to do. All her friends, here in one room.

  Her life would be so empty without these people. Perhaps being a slave-girl wasn’t all about blistered fingers and a sore back. They seemed to think she was worth being friends with, even when she landed in trouble. They even wanted to be in trouble with her–craziness!

  “Hail the conquering hero,” said Annakiya, noticing Shioni in the mirror.

  She groaned. “Will you stop that? I’m still your slave, remember?”

  “And the lowest of the low, hardly worth noticing… blah blah. At least my slave will have clean hair for a change. Sit down.” But Annakiya’s tone was gentle. She had been quite withdrawn since her father’s fall, for he had not recovered–he was in a coma and showed no sign of waking. “Neat, brushed hair that even the Hakim Isoke will approve of, no lice, and some decent clothes.”

  “I see Mama’s got to you too,” said Shioni, trying not to sound like she was grumbling. After all, she wasn’t in a bad mood! Her head was still spinning. So many secrets, so much to mull over; so many people who could have been dead had Kalcha had her way. “Have you learned the chamber’s secrets yet?”

  “It’s as magical and mysterious as ever,” said Annakiya, sighing so gustily that Azurelle had to clutch the mirror-frame in self-defence, fairly squeaking with rage. “I wish I knew who made it and what they made it for! The python’s eye–the one you didn’t shoot–is still stuck in the top of that pedestal. A mason’s chisel couldn’t move it. And Zi has started teaching me how to read
the Sabean script on the floor, but it’s all very cryptic, I’m afraid, an older form than even she knows. So it’ll take a lot more work. If Bekele lets it go ahead, that is.”

  “Be a fool not to,” said Mama, as scathing of the Prince as ever. “He has bigger problems anyway, like where that Kalcha’s disappeared to like the morning mists.”

  “I am more than just a pretty face,” Azurelle put in, not budging from the mirror, however.

  Shioni poked the Fiuri with her forefinger. “Wing check?”

  “Kindly do not disturb me while I am preening, you ruffian.” She sighed theatrically, flicking her wings, which showed no trace of their former sorry state. “No, however pleasing to the eye these appendages may be–and they do put the most glitteringly gossamer spider-silk to shame, wouldn’t you agree?–I remain ground-bound just like you poor humans. It’s Fiuri magic which helps us fly, you know. And my magic is gone.”

  “I’m sorry, Zi.”

  But even green-and-black butterfly wings shot through with veins of glistening gold could not divert Shioni from thinking about Prince Bekele, who might become King much sooner than expected. Bekele, who would have his ideas about kingship put to the test. The odd thing was, the King might awake any moment. How awkward. How irritating to feel even a jot of sympathy for the Prince! Yes, much had changed as a result of that battle.

  Poor Annakiya. She was burying herself in scrolls rather than facing up to the truth. The almost-truth; the awfulness that might become the truth any moment. Shioni had never had a father to lose, however–rather, she scowled at the mirror, she had lost him long ago. Had he loved her? Had she had been snatched from his arms? Or had he sold her to the slavers as she had heard was sometimes done by poor families? Did he ever miss her, think about her…?