by Beth Wangler
Then it turned out Brandon knew the queen, a stranger showed up claiming her brother was needed at the castle and kidnapped him when he refused to go, and now Claire was sitting in the back of a wagon holding a pack of snow to the welt on her unconscious brother’s head, en route to the castle.
“How’s he doing?” Jeremy–that was the stranger’s name–asked from the wagon seat where he was driving.
Brandon stirred and groaned, though his eyes stayed closed. “I think he’s waking,” Claire answered.
“Here.” Jeremy gestured for her to join him. “Take the reins for a minute. I want to tie him up so he can’t run away.”
Claire clambered onto the seat and carefully took the reins from Jeremy. “What do I do?” she asked, feeling eight years old again.
Jeremy smiled at her. “Just hold it like that. They’ll be fine,” he answered, jumping into the wagon bed.
Claire focused on holding the reigns “like that” with all her might until a commotion behind her drew her concentration. Brandon was awake and writhing in the ropes that bound him. “Curse you, Jeremy,” he exclaimed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What needs to be done,” Jeremy answered, tying a rope around Brandon and to the side of the wagon. “Don’t even think of trying to escape.”
“I can’t go back,” Brandon began to get hysterical. “I can’t. Something terrible will happen!”
“Jeremy?” Claire called. She thought she might be able to calm Brandon.
“Yeah, you’d better deal with him,” Jeremy agreed, taking the reins.
“Hey, Brandon, shh,” Claire comforted him. “Hey, listen to me, okay?” It scared her to see her big brother falling apart like this.
“Claire, help me,” Brandon5 begged, his deep voice trembling, tears running down his face. She felt terrible that he couldn’t even dry his tears, so she knelt beside him and dried them with her sleeve.
“Brandon, listen to me,” Claire ordered. “You can’t blame yourself for everything that’s gone wrong. The bad things that happened to our family were because of King Eric, not because of you. And Jeremy told me about the Queen breathing the poison fog–that was the king’s fault, too. If anything, blame yourself for me still being here and for the Queen regaining her mind so she could save our country. In a way, you’re pretty much responsible for every good thing that has happened to us recently.”
“No,” Brandon argued and rolled over so he could ignore her. Claire decided to give him time to cool down, so she sat down next to him and started knitting and humming a song.
When it was dark, Jeremy found a hamlet and an inn. “Here’s how things are going to work,” he told Brandon. “I’m going to untie you until we get into our room, then you’ll be tied back up. Do you still have a headache? Good. Then you’ll know I mean it when I say, if you try to escape, you will regret it. That bump on your head was me being nice.”
“How did you get like this?” Brandon wondered, groaning as he moved his cramped muscles.
“Some stupid guy broke my best friend’s heart,” Jeremy replied, untying the ropes. “A man has to do what he has to do.”
Claire followed uncertainly as they went into the inn. Jeremy got them a room and herded Brandon forward, though her brother did little to resist him. Even though Claire was awed by Jeremy and had been ever since he had knocked her brother unconscious, she was pretty sure Brandon could easily overpower him, concussion and all. Perhaps he had changed his mind about refusing to come with them.
After Jeremy tied Brandon up again in their room, which was tidy and tiny, he went downstairs to take care of the horses and to find some food for them. Claire listened to his footsteps fade down to the hall. To her surprise, Brandon spoke when Jeremy was gone. “Claire, I’m sorry for being a terrible brother today,” he said.
She sunk down and sat against the wall next to him. “I forgive you,” she said, leaning her head against his strong shoulder. “You’re going through a lot right now–you have gone through a lot.”
“So have you,” he pointed out.
She nodded. “Yes, but what I went through was all in my mind. The visions will fade with time, and this feels so much more real than they felt. For you, though, every memory actually happened.”
They sat in familial silence for a while. Claire was close to falling asleep. The day had been long and full, and she was wonderfully tired.
“Claire, are you awake?” Brandon asked a while later, twisting his head to look down at her.
“Mmhm,” she answered, rubbing her eyes.
“I just wanted to say thank you for what you said earlier, in the wagon. I guess you were right about things not being my fault. Thank you.”
She smiled and looked up at him with adoration. “That’s what family’s for, big brother.”
“When did you get so wise?” He looked like he wanted to ruffle her hair or pull her braid like he used to do. “I’m supposed to be the one giving you advice.”
Claire’s smile turned a bit smug. “Maybe I’ve always been wise, but you were just too foolish to know it.” It was good to have her brother back to his normal self.
Brandon laughed, then changed the subject. “Do you know where we are? I couldn’t see any signs from inside the wagon.”
“I think it’s called Loomsworth,” Claire said.
Brandon looked frightened and eager at the same time. “Loomsworth,” he repeated. “Then I’ll see her tomorrow.”
Chapter 24
S ara sat in the Queen’s darkened bedchamber–darkened not because the curtains were drawn, but because the sun was hardly shining anymore. Since Mr. Founder had left eight months before and then Mr. Jeremy had left one month later, the Queen had grown gradually weaker, but it was Prince Rhett’s visit two days ago that broke her. It was Sara who found her lying on the castle’s steps. Since she ran to get help, Sara had not left her sovereign’s side.
The whole time, the Queen had been asleep in her bed. The best physicians came to examine her and tried to wake her up, but none had any success. To the contrary, Queen Elaine seemed to be slipping ever deeper into sleep.
Outside, the land was cold and dark. The local citizens had gathered in a ring around the castle, holding silent vigil for their queen. Some held candles as signs of hope that none of them really felt.
Sara wandered over to peer out the window at them. The royal physician was examining the queen at the moment. She was anxious, awaiting his report.
There was a disturbance in the crowd. Someone, or actually it looked like three people, was cutting through the assembly like a stick pulled across still water. They did not stop at a respectful distance from the castle like everyone else but continued forward to the castle doors and, she supposed, through them. When they left the crowd behind, she felt hope for the first time since the physicians had failed to awaken the Queen. She was sure she recognized two of them as the hunter and the valet’s son, the Queen’s closest friends. Surely they, of all people, could save the Queen.
The chamber doors flew open. “Where is she?” the hunter, Mr. Founder, demanded, several feet ahead of Mr. Jeremy and a girl Sara did not recognize. No one needed to answer, because his eyes instantly landed upon the sleeping Queen. Mr. Founder came up short before he bounded across the room. “Elaine,” he cried out, taking the queen’s hand and brushing a hand over her hair.
The physician touched his shoulder, trying to draw him back. Brandon looked up at him with pleading in his eyes that Sara could see from across the room. “Why is she so cold? Why doesn’t she wake up?” he begged to know.
Sara was afraid again, before the physician spoke. The Queen had been asleep for a while, that was nothing new, but she was not supposed to be cold.
“Son,” the physician began, trying again, unsuccessfully, to draw him away from the bed. He apparently decided it was to no avail and sighed. “I’m sorry. You are too late.”
“Too…late?” Mr. Jeremy asked from behind them, c
onsternation in his face and voice.
“I’m sorry,” the physician explained. “The queen is no longer with us. She died just a moment ago.”
Chapter 25
E laine was dead. Nothing existed but him and her empty shell. Brandon sank to his knees, unable to stand. To her cold, still hand he clung. If he let go, he might drown in air or darkness.
“Elaine,” he choked on her name. “Elaine,” he repeated, “Elaine…Elaine…Elaine.” Each time he said her name, it came out increasingly as a call. Desperation built up inside him. “Elaine, if you can hear me where you are–I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I am a coward. Can you forgive me?
“No, you can’t, because you’re dead.” He didn’t know if he was laughing or crying. “You’re dead, and this time maybe it really is my fault.” He was definitely crying now. He could barely understand what he was saying. “I’m not ready to let you go, but I have to. I have to say good-bye to you alone, when we should be saying hello together. But you are in a good place now, where you’ll never be sad again.”
Brandon stood up shakily and looked at her for a moment without time. In that moment, he relived their short past and lived what could have been. Then he knew it was time to say good-bye.
He leaned over her slowly, lovingly stroking her hair. “Farewell,” he whispered, and he kissed her forehead, and some of his tears fell on her pale cheeks. Then he turned around, ready to walk away without looking back.
But a weak voice behind him whispered his name. He froze, wondering if it was only his imagination.
“Brandon?” the sweet voice repeated, stronger.
He turned around, incredulous.
It was her, really her. Elaine was awake, alive. Light burst forth, or maybe it was only him. It was the brightest, purest joy Brandon had ever known. He was about to explode–he did not know what to do. So he did the one thing he did not need to think about.
“Elaine,” Brandon said with all the emotion inside of him. He dropped to his knees by Elaine’s bed, grasped her warm hand, and cradled it against his forehead.
“You came back,” Elaine said with awe.
“Yes,” Brandon said, and for once let his heart speak without filtering it through his brain–his brain was too overpowered to let him do so, anyways. “Marry me, Elaine,” he begged. “I’m never leaving you again.”
Her face glowed as she gazed back at him. “Yes. Please. Right away.”
As soon as the Queen had fully recovered her strength, Elaine and Brandon were wed before the entire country. Together, their hearts were stronger and purer than any of the kings and queens before them, and Clachan flourished like never before.
Very soon, Treakstand did attack, as Prince Rhett had promised. Their army did not make it five feet past the border into Clachan. Some say a whirlwind came and carried them away; some say the trees and bushes wrapped around them and squeezed them into dust; some say the ground turned to liquid and swallowed them whole. Perhaps all of these things happened. After that, no one dared attack Clachan for generations upon generations.
King Brandon and Queen Elaine ruled for many happy and thriving years. They had many children and taught them to love and protect their people. In the end, the queen and king lay down to sleep together and together passed into whatever realm follows this one.
And the Magician’s blessing to the first Weavers continued, and continues, in the small land of Clachan.
About the Author
Beth Wangler has loved stories since before she could read.
Growing up, she had a voracious appetite for books and loved nothing better than losing herself in a story. On one particular day around third grade, Beth paused in reading to realize that she could add books to the world, too. She’s been writing ever since.
Beth predominantly writes speculative fiction, though she occasionally branches out into poetry or historical fiction. She writes to entertain, to share hope, and to explore truth. When not writing, she teaches History and English, reads, and crochets.
Connect with Beth Wangler on her website, on Twitter, on Facebook, or on Goodreads.
If you enjoyed The Weavers’ Blessing, please leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads.
Other Works by Beth Wangler:
Fairy Tales
The Kangraffs’ Curse*
Noemi’s Dragon*
Fantasy
“The Lake of Living Waters”+
Child of the Kaites (coming summer of 2018)
* Currently only available for free at bethwangler.com.
+ Currently available only for subscribers to Phoenix Fiction Writer’s newsletter.
