Blood Bride (Aarabassa World) (4 page)

Head Mage Heimarl awoke the next moonwake splendidly happy. At long last his eldest daughter Heather had contacted him.  He had spent a good part of the moonsleep Mindtalking with her. Relieved that she was safe and had survived her first journey alone, pride overwhelmed him at the achievements of his wonderful daughter. Content with his lot, he felt ready to face his moonwake’s work in the catacombs of the libraries.

His grief, over the loss of his lifetime friend King Alfred had been dampening his efforts in the current crisis. Then there had been the terrible discovery of finding the imprisoned villagers savagely murdered in the King’s dungeon. Blood stained tears dried on their cheeks and a ghastly hole in each of their chests revealing blackened shriveled dead hearts. It had been a dreadful sight and one that the King’s clerk was still gibbering over. The clerk was now in the care of the Healing Mages but his words kept repeating in Heimarl’s head. He had said that the monshaad Emperor had possessed the King’s mind and had warned them all to fear for their souls. Yet how could this Emperor have passed through the Wall to make such threats? His powers must indeed be increasing if he had done this by Mind Control, from such a distance. Heimarl shared this skill of Mind Control so knew the price one must pay to control another so far away.

Arriving at his small study chamber, deep in the archives of the subterranean libraries, he usually spent his time from moonwake until the moonsleep searching through any old scrolls or books found written by Saurlton Barronz the Ancient Mage. He pulled out the heavy carved wooden chair to sit upon the soft cushioned seat and faced a smoothed yellow sandstone shelf, inbuilt into a crevice within the wall. The sconce above his head was already lit and had probably been burning non-stop since he had started his research of these writings. 

Relaxing his stature, he concentrated on the problems he would have to ponder this moonwake. Through Heather’s contact, he had learned of shocking new developments. Rikka the old herbal nurse had claimed to be his wife’s sister, but he could not remember any talk of Minnah having any sibling relations. He had not approached Minnah on the subject yet, as he suspected there were darker secrets yet to unfold. First, he was going to deal with that treacherous son of hers. He had never trusted that man, not even when he had served at the palace, but he never sought to sway the King’s judgement. The murderous deeds Fedros had committed came as no surprise to Heimarl, he had suspected this pair of devious intentions all along but was never able to fathom out why he had felt such distrust for them.

It was normal practice to allow the King’s Council to make such dire decisions on peoples’ lives. The Council could not congregate without a King, so it would fall on his head to carry out the judgement on Fedros. As Head Mage, he could order the death penalty or grant freedom, his power was equal to that of the King. Because of the possibilities of Rikka’s blood lineage, he had decided to use his own magic skills of Mind Reading which would provide him with the truth of her claims. He needed much strength to delve into another’s mind, but this was the only way. Once he knew the truth, he could make a better judgment of what to do. This was to be his work this moonwake.

* * *

Heimarl withdrew his powers from the warped depths of Fedros’s distasteful mind. He had not lingered in there too long. Having successfully spell-cast the emotions of ‘remorse’ into Fedros’s mind, he was convinced this would result in the cruel man suffering from the terror of the crime he had committed.

Now he hovered in Rikka’s mind. She stirred in her restless sleep hearing  the pitiful sounds of her son’s constant sobbing. He was annoying her to the point of waking up and screaming back at him.

The guards were not happy with all the commotion coming from the fiend’s cell.  He blubbered on how remorseful he was for what he had done. At first they suspected he was mocking them but his sobs were seemingly genuine. They looked in on his mother who appeared in a fitful slumber. They saw no reason to awaken her but clearly her son was deranged. Agreeing to each other that the problem was not theirs, they returned to their duty of guarding on the outside of the prison.

Within Rikka’s sleeping mind he spell-cast her memories back to her childhood. The cruel twisted punishments delivered by her father were at the forefront of her mind.  He could see that once she had loved her mother with fondness, but not for long. Bitterness had festered when her mother had failed to protect her from that fiend of a father. She had experienced the joys of relief at her father’s death in a vicious bar brawl where he had suffered a fatal slit to his throat. Not living to discover the cruel results from his acts of incest with his daughter, he would never know she was now with his child. She had wanted to share this terrible news with her mother, but then learned that her mother was also to have a baby, and that the father was a different man than Rikka’s father, she felt truly violated by both her parents. As Rikka relived these hidden unhappy memories and stirred in a fitful sleep, Heimarl watched the images with the magic he had cast upon her. She was not aware of his spying, in her mind.

Heimarl was satisfied that the old woman spoke the truth, that indeed she was Minnah’s sister. The mother he saw Rikka’s dreams was the same mother Minnah had. His wife must learn of this dismal news. He did not wish to delve any deeper into Rikka’s disturbed memories. This was not an act he enjoyed doing, prying into people’s minds and he only ever performed this magic when he had no other choice. He never stayed long. Gently he let go of the mind hold on Rikka and left her to rest while he decided what to do with that treacherous nephew of his, Fedros.

* * *

The prison was in uproar, Fedros’s weeping had turned into a hysterical wailing. He shouted of his grief and shame of the murderous acts he had committed, begging that they punish him. Crawling on the floor pounding the ground with his bleeding fists, he howled for forgiveness. The guard opened the gate to silence him but Fedros could only see pictures burning in his mind of the fear and pain that the creatures he had hacked to death had experienced. The guard gently kicked at Fedros’s writhing body but to no avail. Bending down to pick up the hysterical prisoner from the floor, Fedros grabbed the guard’s dagger and leaped backwards with a wild laughter. Before the guard could reach Fedros, the crazy prisoner had impaled himself upon the dagger that he now held. Falling heavily forward to the ground, he slumped into a pool of his own gurgling blood. The guard noticed a tiny silver point sticking out of Fedros’s bloodstained back. A bubbly groan gargled in Fedros’s throat, his punishment was now just; he lain dead.

Rikka listened as the scene unfolded, her eyes wide with shock. She felt no sadness at her son’s death but could not understand his sudden turn of repentance. Never had she witnessed her son suffering from shame or guilt. He thrived on torturing others. What was this? Some magic force must be at play. Was it her Master? She stared over at her dead son, from her cell. Now was the time to act the part of the grieving mother. Now was the time to infiltrate her own family ties and dig a hole to spy from, for her Master. He would be pleased with this new development and she in turn would receive her just rewards.

The sun burned to the South, cooking the already dried up rocky wastelands. It was hard to believe that this was the coolest time of the suns cycle for the mid-mountainous regions.

Heather and Sheba had enjoyed an invigorating ride together. They seemed to have been alone together forever. After she had bathed in a bubbling mountain spring, that fed into a river, she then lay in the soft sun-rays to dry out. Sheba had no care for bathing and happily grazed on the white alpine flower beds.

Arriving back at the dragon’s lair, she dismounted Sheba and walked the grey dappled mare to a cavern, where the soldiers stabled their  own horses. Unbuckling the stirrups and heaving off the heavy worn leather saddle, she talked quietly in Sheba’s ear, comforting her riding companion for not having paid her much attention for many moonwakes.  

‘You know Sheba you did better in the boat on our journey here than I did. But then I didn’t keep getting out to have a run, like you did. You were good company though.’ Sheba neighed and showed her flat teeth as if laughing.

‘When I get the under blanket from your back Sheba, I will groom you until you shine like a mirror. Does that sound good, girl?’

Heather offered Sheba some pampering treatment. Fastening a nosebag full of tasty oats to Sheba’s head, she took a cloth to rid her horse of the sweat from the ride. They had bonded with a trusting relationship over the time they had spent together. This was an opportunity for Heather to unwind. Contemplating on the words her father had Mindtalked to her, she wondered about her new Aunt Rikka. On his advice, she had delayed her trip to the Darklands.

Following Fedros’s strange suicide, Rikka was now free of her prison bars and shared Heather’s cave chamber.   

Captain Yanomi had taken a large section of his troops back to Beldroth as he had suspected that a city without a King would soon be in chaos. Sergeant Blackeley had stayed behind with a few soldiers to assist Heather in her deed. She personally had no use of soldiers, but they could accompany Rikka back to the city, when the time came for her to leave for the Darklands.

Rikka would eventually return to her lost family, Heather’s mother Minnah was eager to meet with her newfound sister. Rikka was a strange woman to have as an Aunt, she had remained fairly quiet since her son’s death and constantly looked at Heather with suspicious eyes. Perhaps she blamed Heather for her loss, believing that if she had acted sooner, then her son would still be here. Who knows what thoughts were flying around in the old woman’s head? All she did was perch on her bedroll humming quietly to herself whilst rocking back and forth. She hardly ate and she never seemed to want to bathe. When Heather tried to talk to her, she just appeared oblivious to her presence, never acknowledging any conversation. Heather had not yet confirmed to Rikka that she now knew the claims to her lineage were true, she had not wanted to disturb her mourning period. Time was running out and her concerns for Raphael grew, she must force some conversation with Rikka before her departure.

‘You know young Heather,’ a voice interrupted her thoughts, ‘you could brush a bald patch in that mare if you keep rubbing that same spot over and over,’ Sergeant Blackeley approached Heather in her contemplations.

‘Oh dear, poor Sheba. It’s a wonder she didn’t complain. I think she’s enjoying the oats too much,’ Heather said.

‘I see, I thought perhaps you were in a trance,’ the Sergeant dared to suggest.

‘Nonsense Sergeant, I was merely, well you know, ensuring that this was an extra clean spot.’

‘You are clearly fond of your horse.’ He paused to stroke the mare between her eyes.  ‘You know that we are to move out at the next moonwake. Are you ready Heather, for passing into the Darklands?’

‘Yes, Sergeant. The sooner the better.’  Sheba turned her head around jogging her nosebag up and down, complaining at Heather for stopping her pampering.

‘Do you know Sheba,’ Heather looked at Sheba’s large black eyes peering out of the nosebag. ‘You are one horse who is very hard to please. If I stayed all moonsleep pampering you, it still wouldn’t be enough’.

Sheba grunted into the bag, not really complaining but letting her voice be heard.

‘Sergeant, could you kindly ask one of your men to bed my horse down for the moonsleep? I have someone I must speak with.’

Heather stood close to her horse, stroking the tip of one Sheba’s ears.

‘I will not be seeing you for a while, my beauty. You can’t go with me I’m afraid so I want you to take Rikka back to Beldroth and then you can wait for my return at home. Can you do that for me Sheba?’

Again, Sheba grunted into her nosebag but this time she nudged at Heather and swished her tail around.

‘Sshh girl. It’s going to be just fine.’ Heather tried to comfort Sheba’s uneasiness. ‘Do me this favour, and when I return I’ll spoil you with as much sugar cane as you can possibly eat in one sitting. Truly I will soon be back, my girl, so have no fear in this.’

Heather slowly backed away, leaving her horse in the caring hands of Sergeant Blackeley.  She knew it would be some time before she would see Sheba again and guessed that Sheba knew this too. Sadness swelled in her heart as she remembered those whom she loved, worrying over Raphael and wondering if she would ever see Leon again. She missed her father and mother and even all her silly scatty sisters. Suddenly she felt her young seventeen suncircles and longed for her home and the things that were familiar to her.

Leaving the stable-cave, she walked slowly towards the Dragons’ Lair entrance. Small groups of hungry human soldiers cooked around campfires, chattering quietly. No doubt, they would be relieved at the Sergeant’s news that they were to be on their way home at the next moonwake. Another group also cooked around a larger fire, these were Abapes. They cooked a broth using some strange plant vegetation that Heather had never encountered. They did not care much for the use of herbs in their food. Humans found it quite bland.   

Entering into the larger tunnels of the Dragons’ Lair, she followed one of the smaller passageways. The larger corridors led deeper down, into the dragons’ quarters. The smaller ones led into the smaller caverns where the abapes had made their dwellings. The dragons, rarely seen in the open, remained mostly in the deeper layers of the catacombs. Some of the tunnels were burrowed whilst others had formed naturally. The dark grey and black silvery stone cave walls were fitted with lighting sconces, brightening the way for the human guests. 

Heather moved through the torch lit tunnels until she arrived at her own chamber. Many smaller caverns had been adapted to make comfortable abodes. Each was fixed with a large drapery suspended across the entrance, to give the cavern privacy. Heather lifted the corner of their curtain and entered her temporary home.

‘Rikka?’ Heather was surprised to see that Rikka was not in one of her grieving trances.  The cave shimmered with a warm yellow glow from a small fire that burned to cook a meal.

‘You’re awake and cooking, by the smell of that pot? It smells much tastier than the banquet that the abapes are stewing. Is there enough for two?’

‘My dear,’ Rikka stirred the food and laid out two tin dishes, ‘I’ve cooked a special soup for your departure. I hear talk that you leave for the Wall after this moonsleep and we still have much to talk about?’

Heather welcomed Rikka’s invitation. There was not enough time left to learn much about Rikka’s past but she could at least attempt to welcome her into their family.

‘You will also be leaving on the new moonwake Rikka,’

Heather studied the old woman for a response but her features were unreadable.

‘I have arranged for your passage through to Beldroth where your family awaits to greet you.’

The old woman still did not smile at this news. She ladled the thick soup into one of the dishes and offered it to Heather.

‘Rikka, are you not pleased to be meeting your family after all this time?’ Heather accepted the hot tin bowl. ‘Ow, ouch. Let me get a cloth. I can’t hold the bowl.’

Rikka passed her a small cheesecloth towel.

‘This smells delicious. Is cooking one of your talents Rikka?’ Heather sipped lightly at the steaming broth.

‘Mother was very shocked at the news of your blood ties but she is looking forward to meeting with you. It is my father you will have to be wary of. Being the Head Mage, he’s suspicious of everything and everybody. Do you think you will cope with all the fussing?’

Heather ate her hearty soup watching Rikka closely for an answer.

‘My child, I only wish you could be with me. I have a feeling that you and I are going to get to know each other.’

‘Oh do you think so Rikka, that will be wonderful,’ pleased at these encouraging comments. Heather believed that the old woman was finally accepting her newfound family.

‘I imagine my relationship with your mother, that is, my sister will take a little longer.  There will be many questions I may not be able to answer, it all happened so many suncircles ago. I will go to Beldroth though, if that is what you wish Heather, but I would prefer to wait for your return here, if I could.’

‘I think it’s just nerves Rikka. Perhaps I should call you Aunt Rikka. No, no that doesn’t sound right does it?’

Heather stood up from her cushioned seat and approached her Aunt, to sit down on the rug next to her. She took Rikka’s bony translucent-skinned hand into hers and spoke to her gently.

‘Rikka, you can’t wait in these rough conditions. I don’t know how long I will be. I don’t even really know what is going to happen when I pass through the Wall. Please, go home where you have family to care for you. The dragons are not the best of hosts and the abapes eat very basic food that is not at all nice. I don’t think I will be happy knowing you are waiting here.’

Rikka felt gratified at the girls fussing, her Master would be so pleased at the trust she was gaining from the High Families of Beldroth. 

Heather let go of Rikka’s hand. She stood up, still looking down at Rikka, awaiting a response.

‘Yes, my dear. I will travel to your Royal City and meet these long lost relations. It will help with the grieving of my son.’

‘What do you think made Fedros behave that way Rikka?’ Heather had been curious about his behaviour, not realising it was her father who had bewitched the cruel man’s final fate.  

‘I told the dragons when they rescued us, an evil one possessed him.’ Rikka made to pretend fear in her eyes. She grabbed the bottom of Heather’s blue cotton robe and tugged on it.  ‘He may come after me you know. Perhaps this evil one watches as we talk.’

‘No Rikka, don’t worry yourself over this. It is the evil one I will be seeking, and I shall not allow him to harm you. You are quite safe now. Come, let’s get you to your bed. We both have long journeys ahead and could do with rest.’

Heather tenderly held Rikka by the shoulders and led her to a corner where a brown wool blanket spread out over a canvass mattress, stuffed with large evergreen leaves. 

‘I want you to lay in your bed.’

Heather assisted the old woman down onto the mattress and covered Rikks’s frail looking body with a course dark blanket. For a short while earlier Rikka had seemed almost regal but now she was once again an old woman. Heather wondered at the mysteries of this strange new aunt.

‘You will be an honoured guest at my home,’ she smiled at Rikka proudly, speaking softly.  ‘You tried to cure Prince Raphael. Then you tried to save him. And, now, we discover our bloodlines combine. Comfort yourself in this Rikka. I know you grieve over your son but we will help you to find some happiness. You must put your trust in me’

Rikka closed her eyes revealing crinkly eyelids. Heather smiled at the tired old woman, sensing that she would easily manage to slip into rest, for a short while. She walked over to her own mattress and collapsed down under her own blanket, determined that she too would find the darkness of sleep. With a wave of her hand, she put out the burning torch, leaving the small cooking fire still brightening the chamber with a dim glow. 

The old woman opened her eyes, delighted to have fooled her niece. Her Master would soon deal with such a naive girl.