The Calling of
Ikis
Ikis stood stoically
with his left arm relaxed at his side while his right palm rested on the metal
pommel of his sword. He flexed his
fingers against the hilt a few times, more out of habit than any conveyance of
a silent signal. The pommel’s distorted
top was a result of a blow to an enemy’s helmet; a battle in which he was lucky
to escape. He had learned many lessons
from that fight: lessons he had never forgotten. His blasé appearance to those in the room was
deceptive. He knew how many people were
there, which had weapons and what they were, and he even had a sense of what
their abilities with those weapons were.
He knew what everyone in the room was doing, even though his eyes were
locked on the ice-blue eyes sitting across from him. There was a battle going on in the room and
only Ikis and the lady sitting before him knew the combatants. The only sound in the room was the crackling
of glowing embers in the fireplace. The
fire needed attending to, but the servant wasn’t about to enter the room until
summoned, especially not now.
The last time I
was in this room I was running … running out what I’ve just entered.
Neither Ikis nor the lady was ready to yield. To Ikis, it wasn’t a test of wills, though
most in the room would have argued as such, it was who want to acknowledge who
first. Call it a test of wills, but in
reality it was pure stubbornness … on her part.
“What brings you to
Ishian?” Queen Danillien finally asked; which did nothing to ease the tension
in the room. She never blinked and the
only part of her body that had moved in the past several minutes was her lips.
“I’m not sure
myself. I was hoping you might be able
to tell me … Your Majesty.” Ikis kept
his eyes fixed on hers. Though they were
the most beautiful, light-blue eyes he had ever seen, he knew the color was a
deception. Those ice-blue orbs could
suck a man deep inside and keep him a prisoner if he wasn’t careful. He had been there before, and there was
a cold, dark place that few men escaped.
Only if she mercifully opened the door could a man leave on what he
thought was his own accord. He watched
the twinkling in her eyes come and go at her will. He understood why he was here. She had drawn him to her castle like a
never-rode stallion, bucking all the way.
What he didn’t understand was why.
Danillien raised the
eyebrow over her right eye while the left never moved; still refusing to
blink. “When we were children of
innocence you used to call me Dani.”
“When we were lovers
I used to call you, My Rose.” Why did
I say that? Did she make me say that?
“The last time I
heard you called me anything it was a Witch of Thorns, but you have
never called me, Your Majesty.”
Danillien’s mouth twitched as she caught herself trying to smile. Did he see it?
Ikis slowly let his
hand slide off the pommel of his sword and it came to rest at his side. Was that a smile she suppressed?
When Ikis removed
his hand from his sword, the guards in the room finally relaxed. They had been poised to strike if he had so
much as flinched. They allowed the
flexing of his fingers, but that was the extent they were willing to give the
man they saw as a potential threat to Queen Danillien. Ikis knew their presence was for show. Danillien didn’t have to fear him or any man.
Queen Danillien
lifted up her left arm and snapped her fingers twice in succession. Before the sound finished reverberating off
the cold stone walls, a young male server hustled to stand next to her with a
silver, circular serving tray.
Positioned on the tray were three silver goblets; each with an incuse of
a rose on one side and a horse on the other.
She nodded and the young man stepped forward to make the offer to
Ikis. When he took one of the goblets,
the server turned and walked back to the Queen, who took one for herself. The third goblet sat on the silver tray,
untouched. Ikis turned the goblet in his
hand and looked at the symbols; they had been theirs. She was the rose; he the horse; signifying
his readiness for duty.
Ikis had been in the
castle an untold number of times, though never as a foreign visitor; however,
he had seen the custom many times and understood its significance. The unclaimed goblet signified the
possibility of an unnamed ally and being able to choose first somehow imposed a
sense of control for the visitor. Though
how, he never really understood. When he
lifted the goblet to his mouth his nose was assaulted with the fragrance of
honey and his eyes with the color of firethorn.
The brew was her favorite and the blend special-made. The reddish hue of the liquid came from the
firethorn while the fermented honey gave the drink a warm feel as it traveled
down his throat. There was a hint of
cinnamon, a touch she had specifically reserved for them when they were
together. How long ago was it?
Queen Danillien
hurriedly finished her drink and stood for the first time. She reached around her left shoulder, pulled
her long black hair around her arm, and let it fall. The tip of her glistening, black hair came to
rest a finger width past her waist.
There was a blue-sheen to the deep black that caused anyone who saw it
for the first time to blink in an effort to refocus and double-check what they
saw. She looked just as trim, just as
tough, and just as beautiful as he last remembered. Matter of fact, if he hadn’t known better, he
thought she looked just like the day when he walked away fifteen years ago; or
was it run away? But then again, all the
women in Ishian appeared to stop aging the moment they stepped over into
adulthood. The only item Danillien wore
that hinted to her royalty was her purple silk dress. He was thankful she was not wearing her
crown; a gaudy silver and jewel encrusted mass of metal that he thought would
snap most people’s neck if they tried to wear it for too long. He hated the object as much for its
appearance as for its significance. She
wore no jewelry; an oddity among women of her provenance. She walked within two paces of him and
stopped.
“Do you believe in
destiny, Ikis?”
“Not really. Is that what brought me here?” He let a smirk settle in the right corner of
his mouth and held it there long enough for her to see.
She didn’t answer;
instead, she said, “While you are here, I might as well say something
concerning the affairs of Ishian. You
are interested in our affairs, are you not?”
“Of course,” he
lied. He slowly and silently sucked in
his stomach and tightened his chest muscles and hoped she hadn’t noticed. His black leather jerkin breathed a sigh of
relief over not being stretched. His arms,
legs, and chest were still muscular and solid, but the years had not been kind
to his stomach.
“There are a few
nobles who think it is time for Ishian to have a king.” She looked directly into his eyes and once
she was sure he was looking into hers, she enlarged her irises and sent
twinkles working at the edge of the ice-blue and white. “What do you think about that?”
“I think they are
stupid. No doubt they no longer have the
will to live.” Those eyes. Why does she have to use those eyes!
Danillien laughed
loudly and spun on the balls of her feet and strolled back to her chair. She sat down inelegantly, held up her right
hand, and snapped her fingers once. A
burly man came into the room with split-wood for the fireplace under each
arm. He quickly tossed half a dozen
large chunks of aged oak on the dying fire and then fanned the flames with a
circular, reed fan. When the flames
jumped back to life and bathed the newly added wood, he turned and quickly exited
down the hall from which he came.
“That is what I
always liked about you, Ikis. You, among
all the men in my realm always knew your place better than anyone. Is that why you left?”
That was not what he
expected. He knew why he left. Was this why she had drawn him back? To ask him why he left in the first
place? Somehow he doubted that. “You know why I left, Your Majesty.”
“So it’s back to
that is it? Your Majesty? Alright.
I would like help in this matter … while you’re here.” She took her hair off her chest and threw it
back over her shoulder where it draped over the back of her tall-back
chair. She wasn’t as tall as the back of
the chair was and her black hair climbed up its back, like vine training on a
trellis. The sight was a little
humorous, but he wasn’t about to chuckle.
“How may I help …
while I’m here?”
“That is for
tomorrow. In the intervening time, there
is someone who I know you are eager to see.”
Without a queue from
Danillien, he heard footsteps from behind and turned to see a large women come
strolling into the greeting room. His
heart sank at the recognition. The woman
was the tallest he had ever seen and possibility had more muscles than he had
ever hoped to have in his lifetime. Her
arm muscles were well defined from years of swinging whatever torture device
she fancied at the time. Rhykah was
easily the most beautiful woman in this and any realm; even more so than
Danillien, but it was hard to see the beauty in the Queen’s executioner and
torture master when you feared what was coming.
Ikis spun back to face Danillien just as she finished standing back up
out of her chair. For the first time he
noticed the scar that ran from her left ear across to her cheek and then down
to the corner of her mouth. The scar was
not easily noticed after all these years, but once you did see it, it was
difficult to take your eyes off the thin white line. He had known it was there. He had given it to her, fifteen years ago.
Danillien walked
past him and let her hand glide across his face, tracing an outline of her scar
on his. She let her hand drop and then
strode quickly across the stone-cold floor to a hallway that led to a spiral
stair leading up to her bed chamber.
Before he could turn completely around, he was lifted several inches off
the floor, just enough that he couldn’t stretch his leg or his toes to make
contact with stone. It was a subtle use
of torture; close, but yet so far. Rhykah
brought him slowly towards her.
She’s smiling …
or is that a smirk? He knew of Rhykah’s power and what she could
do … fifteen years ago. What he never
understood was if the power came from sorcery or wizardry. Was there a difference? He was suspended only a handful of inches off
the stone floor, instead of several feet, but the short height gave him little
comfort. If she had gained in power,
which he doubted, she most surely would have taken the opportunity to impress
him. This little exercise in display was
just that; display. All she had to do
was tell him to follow her and he would have.
What else could he do? Instead,
she took advantage of the opportunity to let him and anyone else still left in
the room to reacquaint themselves with what she was capable of doing.
Rhykah turned and he
followed floating through air on an invisible chain. He was bound just as surely as if it was cold
metal wrapped around his arms and legs with a giant lock to keep the chains
together. As they made their way to her
chamber, not once did she turn to evaluate his demeanor and not once did she
make a sound other than her soft leather boots scuffling across the
stones. Once securely in the chamber,
she reached up for the cat-o’-nine-tails and took it off its hook. She cracked the whip a couple of times and
put it back. Without turning to face
Ikis, she said, “Too soft,” more to herself than him, but obviously loud enough
so she knew he heard.
Now that was new. He
had never known Rhykah to play mental games first, with anyone. She always inflicted pain first, and then
asked questions second. This is not
good!
She opened the door
to the iron maiden and let the door slam shut on its own. She put her fists on her hips and forced a
demonic-sigh through her teeth. “Dirty! Pytrias!
I thought I told you to clean these spikes. You know I hate dried blood on them.” She finally turned to face Ikis and slowly
lowered him to the floor. “Men. What good are they except for the
continuation of humankind?” She shook
her head. “And even that they
usually mess up.” She walked along the
wall with her hand brushing up against the various devices she used when called
upon by Queen Danillien, and sometimes when not called. After she made a circuit around the chamber,
she looked at Ikis and shrugged her shoulders.
“You choose.”
He didn’t
hesitate. Pointing at something on the
table he said, “That.”
She turned and tried
to find what it was he had pointed at.
“What?”
“That,” he said;
gesturing more convincingly.
“All I see is pen
and parchment on the table. There is
nothing over there.” She turned and for
the first time there was a hint of anger in her eyes. Her eyes were not nearly as penetrating as
Danillien’s ice-blue eyes, but they didn’t have to be. Those jade-colored eyes had come from a
foreigner, probably several generations ago.
No true-blooded Ishian had any hint of green in their eyes. Hazel, dark brown, blue, and even eyes so
dark that you had to call them black, but no green. Rhykah had the power to be Queen, but not the
lineage. It was a good thing for Queen
Danillien that Rhykah respected tradition.
“The feather end of
the pen or a flogging with the parchment will do just fine.” He clinched his jaws tight, suppressing a
smile. He wanted her to believe he was
serious. He desperately wanted her to
believe. Even more so, he wanted her to
accept his choosing.
She walked over to
the table and took the pen out of its ink bottle. She held it over the bottle’s opening and
watched the ink drip off until the flow stopped. Then, she broke the quill into several pieces
and threw it in the fireplace, where a small fire was dwindling towards its own
death. The fragile feathers quickly
caught fire and just as quickly shriveled to nothing. Next she took the parchment and wadded it up
into a ball and tossed it on top of the shriveling feathers. When the parchment caught fire, she turned to
face him. “What pen? What parchment?”
She walked over to Ikis
and placed her fists on her hips. “Queen
Danillien should have killed you the day you cut her with that dagger of
yours. She refuses to tell me why, even
now. You still have the blade?”
He hesitated at
first, then squat down to retrieve the dagger from its sheath where the leather
holder was tied around his lower leg. Both
of his knees popped as he slowly stood erect.
They started that a couple of years ago; the knees popping, along with
his right shoulder. The old captain on
the sailing vessel he had called home for the last ten years said it was the
sound of old age. He turned the dagger
around so he could hand it to her handle first.
She took the dagger slowly from his grip and gazed at the blade. She said nothing about his joints
popping. She was probably used to
hearing that sound from the rack, if she could hear it over the screams.
“Hold still,” was
all she said as she reached up and grabbed him by the jaw.
Hold still? She
could use her power to hold him in place, unless she planned on doing something
with the blade which might divide her power, making her vulnerable. Then again, she had held him aloft while
snapping that whipping toy of hers, that seemed complicated enough to him. Before he tried to reason her request any
further, she raised the blade’s tip to the flap on his ear. She made a clean cut across his face to the
cheek bone then angled it down to the corner of his mouth. He didn’t flinch, but he did clench his teeth
and fought back the tears that wanted to well up in the corner of his
eyes. When she was done, she cocked her
head to get a better view of her handiwork.
She turned his head further around by the jaw, scrutinized the cut
before declaring it proper, and let go.
She handed him the dagger and when he took it, she strolled over to her
small table and sat down. She opened up
a small drawer and retrieved a new parchment and pen.
“You may leave
now. Queen Danillien is expecting you
for dinner and do not wipe the blood off your face,” she said, as he was
lifting up the back of his hand to do just that. “She will expect to see that.” She never looked up. He never asked why, just turned and left the
chamber happy that that was all she had done, but angry that she had even done
that.
* * *
In the Great Hall, Queen
Danillien was sitting at a long table with a dozen women and a couple of
men. He recognized all but two of the
women. The men he knew from his days in
the guard, Gridyn and Mappyta. Fifteen
years ago, Gridyn had been an up-and-coming young warrior whose good looks had
won favor among many of the palace ladies, including several duchesses. Though he was surprised to see men at the
table, he was not surprised that one would be Gridyn; however, he was surprised
to see Mappyta. Mappyta was always on
the edge between the Queen’s favor and her wrath. How he had survived this long was a mystery …
and a joy. Mappyta and he had been the
best of friends. That thought wiped the
short-lived smile off Ikis’ face. Maybe
Mappyta was here because of him and not that he was in the good graces of
Danillien.
“Sit.” Danillien motioned for Ikis to take the empty
chair next to her when he had made it half way into the room. He went around the end of the table where
Mappyta sat and patted his friend on the shoulder as he walked by. He wouldn’t stop and chat with the man; he
didn’t want to risk changing the man’s luck, if indeed good luck was on his
side at the moment.
Lying on the middle
of the table on a large serving platter was a spit-cooked boar; its aroma
penetrated the room, easily defeating all other smells. His mouth watered at the smell and the
thought of the luscious meat coming to rest on his tongue. There was no honey-firethorn wine served,
just regular honey-wine. Conversation was
small around the table as everyone ate and drank. Queen Danillien said few words and then when
she did they were all directed at one of the women around the table. Ikis strained his hearing, searching for
anything about the so-called noblemen insurrection. A significant majority of the nobles in
Ishian were women and all powerful in the art of wizardry. The few noblemen were powerful in their own
right; however, their power came from armies.
Men who found their ideals closely matching those of the male nobles tended
to flock onto their provinces. Those
lands still belonged to the Queen and since the noblemen and their armies were
few, there had never been any worry, apparently until now.
Why Queen Danillien
allowed noblemen in the first place was in itself a mystery, not only to Ikis,
but to other queens as well. If all the
duchesses of Ishian were present at the table, that meant that the noblemen
numbered six. Ishian was the largest
queendom in this part of the world and at last count had eighteen
provinces. When Ikis had left fifteen
years ago, only two provinces were governed by men. Neither man then had any political power
close to what the women held. Both men
were marques and most people believe the real decisions were made by their
wives, the marchioness.
When everyone
appeared to be finished eating, Queen Danillien clapped her hands twice and
male servants scurried about taking everything away except goblets and wine
flagons. Once the servants were gone and
goblets refilled, Danillien cleared her throat, a signal for all to listen.
“There are six
noblemen in Ishian,” she said over the top of her goblet and then took a sip of
her honey-wine.
There was only
two when I left, now six. I was right. There
were a few muffled murmurs around the table, all coming from the women.
“I know. It was my decision to place them as heads of
their respective lands once the noblewomen of those lands passed away. They oversee our border provinces and do well
as guardians; besides, our men were beginning to leave Ishian for other lands.” She didn’t turn her head, but instead turned
her eyes in Ikis’ direction before surveying those around the table. “I wanted them to know they were wanted
here. I wanted them to know they had a
chance to be something here other than a warrior, a servant, or a slave. Men were sneaking off in the night to other
lands to be with other women. It had to
stop. This was the best offer I could
make.”
If you would have
treated them right maybe they wouldn’t have left in the first place. “Did
it work?” Ikis asked.
“Yes. The men were treated slightly better in other
lands, so to get them back and to keep them here we had to treat them
better.” More murmurs could be heard
around the table and Queen Danillien did not attempt to squash their
anger. Ikis heard the occasional
“worthless”, “mistake”, and “animals” thrown into the bantering of
conversations.
“We actually have
more men now than we did a few years ago,” Duchess Kae added, hoping to
acknowledge Queen Danillien’s wisdom in her decision as well as enhancing her
standing.
He remembered
Duchess Kae as the most powerful of the noblewomen and unless Queen Danillien
had come up with an heir, she would sit on the throne if anything happened to
Her Majesty. He had thought upon his
first arrival at the castle earlier in the day that that was the reason he had
been summoned. Queen Danillien needed an
heir, so why not him as the seed. He
chuckled, which brought several frowns his direction.
“Something amuses
you, Ikis?” the Queen asked.
He forcibly cleared
his throat and pounded his chest a couple of times before answering. He knew he shouldn’t act as though it was
something caught in his throat: she would never believe that. “Nothing … really. I was just thinking of old Looska and what he
might think about more men being made nobles in Ishian. He probably would have thought it as stupid
an idea as ….” He let the thought fade
off his tongue when he realized he may have swatted at a hornet only to hit the
hive.
Queen Danillien
laughed, easing the tension his comments brought down on the group. Though Danillien had given some concessions
to the men, she would not have allowed herself to be interrupted or made fun of
by any man other than him. When he
reached up to rub the dried blood on his cheek, she grabbed his hand and pushed
it down at his side. She wasn’t ready to
let everything come back to normal … not yet.
“Who is the leader?”
Ikis asked, in an effort to save face with the other women.
“Kurian, Baron
Kurian. His mother was the Duchess of
Moortayh, Duchess Arhean. You remember
her I’m sure, but do you remember Kurian?”
At Kurian’s name
Danillien locked her eyes on his and wouldn’t let go. He tried to blink; tried to turn away at
those ice-blue orbs, but could not. Why
is she doing this? “No, I have never
heard of the man. Duchess Arhean,
yes. Kuria, no.”
“Kurian, not Kuria,”
Danillien corrected, all the while wondering if Kuria was a slip-of-the-tongue
or an effort at deflection.
“It is rumored that
Kurian has picked up a few … abilities,” Duchess Kae said.
Danillien
tensed. It wasn’t Kurian that had
abilities. If Duchess Kae was strong
enough she would have been able to detect a spark in the man if he had any. If a rumor that a man had some magical
powers was based in fact … how long would it be before it was traced back to
the castle?
Ikis sensed
Danillien’s slightly stunned expression at the revelation. Did she not want him to know that? “You can easily remove him from his
perch. That is your right. As Queen you have the political power and as
a woman you have the magical power. I do
not see what the problem is here, especially one that would involve me.”
“If I replace the
noblemen simply because they express an opinion or a desire, then how many will
flee us once again? All, this time
perhaps? I want a message to be sent to
the noblemen and I want it to come from a man.
If Looska was still alive I would have used him in your stead. I want a man to let the men know to leave
things be.”
My stead? “So
you want me to rough up a few noblemen and tell them to back-off or else? Is that it?
From what I hear, they have armies.
I’m not going to be able to prance into their manors and have my way
with them.”
“You impress one you
impress them all. They behave like a
pack of wolves. Baron Kurian is the pack’s
leader. Put him in his place and the
others will cower along with him as he puts his tail between his legs and
whimpers away,” Danillien said, and then put the goblet to her lips, tilted her
head back, and drained the contents.
“Again, something
easily done by any of you in here.”
“I want the message
to come ….”
“I know … from me,
but I still do not understand.”
“If a man is told he
is wrong by another man, it is more believable to him than if it comes from a
woman. No different than a woman. She will not believe or trust the advice if
it comes from a man, but she will give the advice credence if it comes from
another woman. It’s simple.” Danillien looked at the Duchesses around the
table and they all nodded in affirmation.
“Alright. I take it the how and when is being left up
to me? While I still have some strength
and mastery of the sword, I am no longer a young man. You do realize that … don’t you?”
Several women around
the table chuckled this time, including Danillien. “I do not expect you to act in this
alone. I just want you to be the
messenger. You have very little to do,
but your role is most vital. The how and
when are not being left up to you. All
of that has already been arranged. Have
you been gone so long that you do not realize what is upon us?” The Queen cocked her head so she could see
him without having to shift in her chair.
Ikis eyebrows
scrunched and wrinkles furrowed across his forehead as he thought back. It had been fifteen years since he had been
in the
“The Festival of
Harvests and the Tournament of Champions.
How could you forget? You won the
archery and joust three years in a row.
You disgraced the Tournament by not defending your championship for a
fourth time when you took off, to who knows where. All defending champions are expected to
defend their title even if they are too old to sit on a horse.” Duchess Amadan nearly spat as she finished
reminding him of his unfinished duty. It
probably was Duchess Amadan’s son or someone from her stable who won one of
those events upon his departure. A man
who won an event at the Tournament of Champions without the defending champion
participating was a tainted title. Men
were used in the Tournament of Champions in much the same way men used horses
in a horserace. Neither had a choice and
poor performances usually ended up with additional training and practice … or
worse. It was obvious why women didn’t
participate; they always won when facing men.
When facing each other it might take days to decide who won. The Tournament of Champions was entertainment
for the women and men at the expense of the men; though winning could bring
unannounced benefits that only a woman and the man representing her duchy would
know.
“Please do not tell
me you expect me to participate in the Tournament? I have not shot an arrow in ten years and I
have not jousted since the last time on your tournament field.”
“No,” Queen
Danillien said, just as he thought he saw the word “yes” form on the lips of
Duchess Amadan. “You will be present at
the Tournament tomorrow. It will be
announced that you have come back to take your rightful place in the palace and
to judge the Tournament. You will defend
your titles the following year after you have trained. When everyone sees your stomach they will
understand the training issue.” She
started to reach over and pat it, but restrained herself.
The duchesses around
the table questioningly looked at the Queen.
They did not know of her plan’s details and they were having a hard time
sorting out in their minds how this was going to convince Kurian and the others
to put their foolish notions aside.
“Gridyn and Mappyta,
you are dismissed.” Danillien clapped
her hands loudly and a servant came rushing into the room. “Please show Master Ikis to his bed chamber.”
She nodded her head sideways letting
both the servant and Ikis know that it was time to leave and do as
commanded. “The rest of you, please
stay.” Once the men were gone, she
smiled and told each one of them her plan … all but the final detail.
* * *
Ikis lay on his
straw stuffed pad and stared up into the darkness of the room. The ceiling was high and the room closed to
the outside, making it impossible to see anything. He didn’t understand what was going on. This whole idea of a man accepting what came
from a man and a woman from a woman made sense, but it was still hard to fathom
why Queen Danillien just didn’t squash Kurian like an annoying bug. That would put the fear into all of the
noblemen, if that was her plan. From the
looks on their faces, the duchesses appeared to be thinking the same
thing. Only Rhykah was more powerful
than Danillien, and the other noblewomen, they were somewhere close behind. Danillien didn’t need Rhykah to set the men
straight. She could do it easily on her
own. Sleep did not come easy despite the
extra goblet of honey-wine he drank. He
stopped his drinking at the third offer, knowing all too well that the fourth
and the fifth and subsequent offerings would be too difficult to turn away once
he drank that third. What was
Danillien up to?
* * *
Danillien looked up
at the canopy draped overhead on her bed.
The flame on the end of the wick in the oil lamp flickered as a cool
breeze shot across the room and caught her eye.
She glanced over at the open arrow-slit that was the only window in her
chamber and winced. She would have to
get up out of her warm bed and close the wooden shutters to keep autumn’s
nighttime chill out of her bedchamber.
Her predecessor had built the castle, and the queen was so paranoid that
someone might get a fortuitous shot through a larger window, that she had a
single, arrow-slit built instead. Danillien
decided right then that she would have construction on a
* * *
The young lad stood
and walked gingerly out of the garderobe near his bedchamber. The candle cast eerie shadows along the rocks
of the narrow hallway as he held it out in front of his chest so he could see
the way back to his room. He used the
candle so his Mother wouldn’t know he was up and about. It was the middle of the night and a cooler
than expected chill hung in the air. He thoughtlessly
sent it away and kept walking. He
stopped in pause as he realized his mistake.
He had been careful not to use his abilities to light the way and let
her feel his presence outside of his chamber.
He quickly shut off the heat flows, hoping she had not sensed what he
had done. He had been ordered to stay in
his room once word got to the castle that Ikis had approached the outer gate at
the outer curtain wall. He was certain
the edict did not include the time when he had to relieve himself, but with his
Mother, one never knew.
He had learned as
much about Ikis from his Mother as he had learned from Mappyta. He liked what he heard from Mappyta. He didn’t like what he heard from her. It was best that his Mother didn’t know what
he learned from Mappyta … for the old man’s sake. He desperately wanted to meet the man Mappyta
had described as the best warrior to ever wield a sword, shoot an arrow, or
lower a lance. Ishian had been in only
one war since his mother became queen and that was early in her reign. Mappyta had said the women of Ishian had battled
evenly with the women of Teasian, so the difference in the war came down to the
men, and that was where Ikis had forged his fame. With women easily killing men, it was Queen
Danillien who changed her queendom’s focus.
The Ishian female wizards struck at their Teasian counterparts and once
the Teasian women were preoccupied and worried about the Ishian women; Ikis was
free to take over the battlefield.
His mother could not
keep him away forever. She wasn’t about
to keep him away from the Tournament of Champions or the revelries that came
during the Festival of Harvests; no matter what she said. She’d have to put up a tremendous shield
around his room to do that, and she knew as well as he what that would do to
her strength. He could not imagine her
taking that risk, not with all the other powerful wizards gathered in one
place. No … he would get his
chance. It might not be until the
Tournament of Champions, but he’d get his chance.
* * *
Dawn broke crisp and
clean over the
“Ikis!” Mappyta
yelled loud enough to wake the dead, even though both men had seen each other
at about the same time.
“Mappyta!” Ikis said
quieter, but with the same amount of exuberance. Both men embraced and dueled over who could
squeeze the hardest.
“Life has been good
to Ikis, no?”
“Yes it has; though looking
over your shoulder for fifteen years can put a kink in one’s neck.” Both men laughed as Mappyta pulled Ikis over
to the side away from the other soldiers.
“Things are not the
same when you were here last, Ikis.”
“I gather that, but ….” Mappyta held up his hand and cut Ikis off.
“The Queen has never
been the same since you left. She grows
more distant each day: makes strange decisions.
Then there is Rhykah. There is
something terribly wrong with that woman.
It seems as though she grows stronger in magic every day. How can that be, Ikis? A woman is born with only so much power and
all of it has manifested itself long before they have obtained womanhood. She scares me.”
Ikis chuckled as he
said, “She has always scared everyone, Mappyta.”
“Not like this. I think she has stepped over the line and
seeks help from dark places.”
“Sorcery?” Ikis shifted his weight from his left to his
right and leaned his should up against the stone wall.
“Sorcery. Wizardry.
What’s the difference? It’s all
nasty, if you want my opinion.” Mappyta
became more fidgety as he nervously glanced about searching for unexpected eyes
and ears.
“I have no idea what
the difference is; however, if Rhykah has guidance from the dark side, then
that could indeed explain her power gain.
I sensed something stronger in her while I was in her torture chamber
yesterday, but she did not use it on me and I began to think I was just
imagining things.”
“What is stranger is
that despite gaining in power, she has had a tendency to shy away from the
Great Hall: spending most of her time in her chamber or the Keep’s barbican. That’s if she is in the castle at all. She teaches now, when she’s not
torturing. She has a small group of
young girls that she trains in the ways … as she calls it. You ask me and I think she is teaching those
little monsters what the dark side has taught her. Just my opinion and the Creator help
me if she discovers what I think and help us all if I’m right.”
“What is this with
the noblemen,” Ikis said, deliberately changing the subject. “Is what Danillien says truth?”
“Yes. Baron Kurian has openly stated that it was
time Ishian had a king. He presented to
Her Majesty a suggestion that offered a rotation of rule between women and
men. A queen followed by a king followed
by a queen. Of course that was his
presentation once he found out that Queen Danillien was ready to send Rhykah to
haul him into the castle. I do not know
the man very well, but I do know from a reliable source that that is not what
he really wants. He wants a king …
period.”
* * *
Queen Danillien was
looking down from the wall walk of the inner curtain at the two men standing
just outside the barbican. She tried to
eavesdrop by reading lips and extending her ears, as she called it. Reading the lips was difficult since both men
stood in the shadows and had their heads at a slight angle away from her. She tried her ears and ran into a
block. Puzzled, she tried again. When she couldn’t get past the invisible
barrier, she looked about for Rhykah.
The woman seemed to get stronger with every breath, but why would she
block her eavesdropping? Rhykah hated
Ikis and didn’t rarely acknowledge Mappyta existed; both of whom she thought
should have been dead long ago. No doubt
at the hands of Rhykah herself. Despite
being a friend, the woman was on the verge of becoming intolerable. Keeping herself out of sight more often than
not and then there was that little group of girls she taught. What did she call them? A coven?
Twelve young girls and Rhykah.
She would seek answers from Rhykah on some serious questions about that coven
of hers, as soon as she put the trouble with the noblemen behind her. Continuing to look along the wall walk for
Rhykah, she found the source of her block.
Standing across the outer
ward on the outer curtain wall and looking down at the same two men was her
son. She sent a strong energy surge
directly at him. He looked up and
smiled. Queen Danillien cringed. That powerful of a pulse would have sent any
man flying over the wall and tumbling to the ground. Even the strongest woman would have had to
pick herself up off the stone platform had the recipient been unaware of its
coming. He just smiled! She choked the furry that tried to well up
within. He would probably sense the
anger in her if she allowed it to fester.
She turned and traipsed off towards her bedchamber so she could change
into her attire for the opening ceremonies of the festival and tournament.
Isreadar kept his
smile and eyes locked on his Mother as she made her way along the walk way
towards the Keep. While he had kept her
form eavesdropping on the two men, he had been unable to eavesdrop himself. By the time he looked back to where the two
men stood talking, they were gone. He
spun on his heals and headed back towards the Keep and his own bedchamber. There he would change into the clothes he had
selected for the festival. They wouldn’t
be the princely tights and quilted jerkin his Mother had selected for him to
wear. And he wasn’t about to wear that childish-looking
slouch cap either. Instead, he had set
out his leather doublet, wool pants, and his wide-brimmed, leather hat. He smiled to the point of laughing when he
visualized the look on his Mother’s face when she would see him in that attire at
the jousting arena.
* * *
The day was perfect
for the opening ceremonies of the weekend’s festivities. No rain meant the grounds outside the castle
would be mud-free and the grass would quickly rebound from the traffic. The temporary enclosure that defined the
arena was large enough to allow most of the citizenry to enter and watch the
events. Parallel hemp-ropes acted as a
fence to keep those standing away from the playing field and the procession
that was about to take place. Only the
upper echelon of Ishian and the visiting dignitaries had a place to sit. The wooden dais was large enough to accommodate
the eighteen heads of Ishian provinces, the queen and her court, and a handful of
foreign dignitaries. The only change
Ikis could see was the segregated section of the dais where the noblemen were
already seated. Apparently they were not
allowed to enter in grandiose style as the duchesses and the queen were about
to do.
Ikis couldn’t
remember the last time he was at the arena as a non-participant. He knew it had to be as a young boy, but that
was so long ago. Only when he saw the
arena from the inside did the flood of memories of his last joust fill up his
thoughts. It had been a strange year for
him at the Tournament. It was supposed
to have been the strongest field ever, with participants as far away as Suettar
and even their traditional adversary and sometimes hated enemy, Teasian, had
sent a few of their best. It was
supposed to be the year he finally lost, especially at the joust. It turned out to be his easiest victories
ever in the tournament. He had
participated in the archery event only because he was the defending champion
and had done little in the way of practice.
He actually had hoped to lose the even so he wouldn’t have obligations
to compete the following year. He had
won with some of his best shooting. During
the weeks up to the festival, he had concentrated singularly on jousting, while
excited chatter flew from all directions about the big names coming from
afar. He had confidence, but he also
knew if he was to fall, this could be the year.
Instead, he ran roughshod over the competition. Only the presence of the duchesses and
visiting queens assured him that Queen Danillien or Rhykah did not have a hand
in his success. It had been so easy. Strangely easy.
The twelve duchesses
of Ishian marched into the arena single file; each in turn walking over to the
stanchion and planting their flags in the attached holder. The first was not necessarily the best, the
favorite, or the oldest. They cast dice
to determine the order, a ritual that had been ongoing since anyone could
remember. Casting of the dice was a way
to let the duchesses and everyone else know they were all equal in the eyes of
the queen. It was the queen who presided
over the casting to make sure none of the duchesses used any magic to bounce
the dice in their favor. First to go was
Duchess Sharrah, who placed her blue flag with a gold, couchant Talbot;
signifying courage, fidelity, and loyalty.
Next was Duchess Kae. Her blue
flag with three green bodied and maroon shelled tortoises signified
invulnerability and victory in battle.
The rest of the duchesses followed in dice-order and placed their flags
along the side of those before them.
When the last duchess sat comfortably on the dais, Queen Danillien
stepped into the arena.
A roar from the
gallery could have been heard deep within the Keep, if anyone was still
there. Queen Danillien let the
thunderous jubilation of her presence hold a moment or two before she made her
way to the center of the arena and opposite the dais. Unlike the duchesses, who carried their own
flag to the stanchion, Rhykah carried the Queen’s flag to the center and
highest holder among all the flags. Her
purple flag was the busiest of them all.
Two green oak leaves with their stems touching, angled away from each
other, signifying strength and a long lineage, sat poised beneath combatant silver
stags. Ikis almost laughed. Silver signified sincerity and peace. A strange color for any set of animals posed combatively. Then there was the crown. A gold, five pointed headdress sat above the
stags, large enough that both their heads and antlers could easily fit inside.
When Rhykah finished
placing the flag and walked up to stand behind the Queen and next to Ikis,
Danillien glanced back over her shoulder to see where the pair was
standing. She saw the nervous look on
Ikis’ face as he glanced quickly at Rhykah.
When she turned around she caught a glimpse of Isreadar. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. When did I lose control of him? Twelve; he was twelve. At twelve Isreadar had refused to sit on the
dais during the Tournament of Champions; instead, he meandered among the men at
the staging area and had done so each and every Tournament of Champions
since. Now he stood at the front of the
roped area next to the dais. At least he
was close, but those clothes. Why did
he wear those awful clothes?
She opened her eyes
and smiled at those sitting on the dais.
She held up her arms bringing the throng to silence. “All of you know I have been at the forefront
of change. I have allowed men to sit in
places of honor when no other queendom would even offer a token of
consideration. I have rediscovered that if
you give a man a dagger he wants a sword.”
All the women around the arena broke out into a raucous laugh. All the men standing behind the rope-fence
glanced at each other while some shuffled in their feet. The noblemen on their segregated section of
the dais squirmed in their seats. “There
are some among us who have asked for that sword.” She turned to face Rhykah and the woman
handed her a sword that had belonged to Queen Danillien’s father; a weapon she
normally had no need for, except for symbolic purposes. She held it aloft and looked up along the
blade as though she was aligning the sword with a distant object in the sky. She looked over at the segregated dais where
the six noblemen were seated. “Gentlemen,
I give you your sword!” Queen Danillien
turned and thrust the sword into the abdomen of Ikis. Gasps could be heard all around the arena as
Ikis went to his knees with the sword’s tip sticking out the backside of his
jerkin.
Ikis’ mouth was
agape. The pain had yet to sit in, but
the sudden furry of the attack and the insanity of it all had stunned his
thinking. His eyes blinked erratically
as the pain slowly began to gain in strength. He had grabbed the blade near the hilt as
Danillien crouched down in front of him.
“You have fulfilled your destiny, Ikis.
Your death will mend my fifteen-year-old broken heart. More importantly your death will end the
conspiracy against me. You see, Ikis, to
those men I gave power; they want you to be the first king. You didn’t know that did you? I didn’t think so, but nonetheless, you have
accomplished more than what I ever could have by just pushing them around.”
At first Rhykah
smiled; then tilted her head back and laughed aloud. Ikis never took his eyes off those ice-blue
orbs of Danillien’s. He ignored Rhykah’s
haughty, meaningless laughter. When
Rhykah’s laughter stopped, Danillien pulled the sword out of Ikis as quickly as
she had thrust it into the side of his stomach.
As Ikis was about to fall facedown into the grassy arena, he was caught
by a young man in a leather doublet, wool pants, and a wide-brimmed, black leather
hat. He looked up into the young man’s
eyes and thought he saw himself, and then he passed out.
* * *
“Who are you?” Ikis
rasped, too weak to talk with any authority.
“Where am I? Why am I not dead?” His eyes fluttered as he focused them on the
boy while trying to come fully awake
“Quiet. You’ll undo all that I have done.” The young man was no longer wearing his
wide-brimmed hat or his leather doublet, but he still wore his wool pants and a
white shirt that was stained with blood.
“How?” Ikis asked,
and then coughed up spittle of blood.
Isreadar wiped the
blood as it drooled out of the corner of Ikis’ mouth and sat back into his
chair. “You must be still. It took a lot out of me to stop the blood and
start the mending. If you aggravate the
wound now I may not have the strength to repair what I have accomplished. It’s all I can do right now to shield us from
prying and scrying eyes. If Mother finds
us we are both as good as dead. I
carried you away from the arena while she was busy savoring the moment. By the time we were beyond the field I could
feel her beginning to search. She wanted
to make sure you were dead, so I stopped your heart long enough so she got the
message, a false one.” He smiled, and
when Ikis opened his mouth to say something, Isreadar held a finger over his
lips, demanding silence.
Before Isreadar
could stop him again, Ikis asked weakly, “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.
Fifteen, Father.”