Chronicles of Logos Quest For the Kingdom Parts IV, V, VI, and VII Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (11 page)

“So it’s
true,” he spat at Cort. “Melisande told me and I was reluctant to believe her.
But now I have seen it with my own eyes!”

He suddenly lunged
for Cort, who quickly stepped out of his way, sending Brenus sprawling to the
ground.

“Now you have
seen what, Brenus? Your wife throw herself at me? For that is all you saw. I’ll
have none of her!”

“You lie!”
Brenus shouted as he leaped to his feet. “I will kill you, Cort; I swear I
will!”

Once again
Melisande intervened between them, but Cort flung her away. She did not take
such treatment lightly. Her eyes smoldered as she glared at Cort.

“No, you have
seen for yourself, Brenus! This is why your brother has been angry since our
marriage, for he wanted me for himself!”

Cort stared at
her in growing disbelief, and shook his head as though he could not comprehend
the words spoken about himself.

“What madness
ails you, woman? It was you who forced yourself on me just now, and I who
rejected you. Tell the truth or I will wring your faithless neck!”

Melisande drew
back as if in fear, but Cort saw no fear in her eyes, only a murderous rage. If
she had a weapon in her hand she would use it against me, I swear!

As she did
not, Melisande used the only weapon left to her. She shuddered, and then burst
into tears, attempting to dry them on the sleeve of her cloak. Brenus sprang to
her side.

“There,
darling, don’t cry!” he soothed, drawing her into his arms.

“Oh, Brenus,
you must believe me, you must! I have always feared your brother, and what he
might do if we found ourselves alone; and you see, my fears are well-founded!”

“You lie,
woman!”

Cort ran to
them and tore Melisande out of his brother’s arms. With a sudden burst of rage
he shook her, shook her so hard that her hood fell from her cloak and her curls
tumbled down on her shoulders. Brenus leapt at him and swung a fist into his other
eye, knocking him to the ground for the second time that day.

“Enough!”
Melisande screamed. “Oh, please do not fight on my account!”

Cort scrambled
to his feet and covered his eye with his hand. He shot a look of pure contempt
at Melisande.

“No, we shall
not fight on your account, Melisande. For you are not worth it. A woman who
lies, hides her history, and causes strife between brothers is never worth
fighting over.”

A slight smile
curved the lips of Melisande, but her eyes were icy as she looked at Cort,
almost with a silent warning.

He continued
his denouncement of her behavior.

“But know
this: all is known to Dominio. Though you lie to my brother,
He
knows
all about you. And one day He will reveal it to all that know you. Do not think
you have triumphed or scored over me. For the day is coming when your name will
be a byword and your memory scorned in all of Eirinia. Then you will have
nowhere to call home for no one will take you in or have ought to do with you.”

Melisande
glowered at him with the all of the malevolence of a snake about to strike, but
Brenus hastened to cut the flow of his words.

“That is
enough, Cort!”

Brenus
breathed heavily, as though winded by the violent emotion of their fight. He
took one last look at his brother, and for a moment a flicker of regret touched
his face. Then he straightened and pointed a finger at Cort.

“Be gone,
Cort! Take yourself away from here, or I will kill you, whether it damns me in
the eyes of Dominio or not. For I will have no one say a word against my wife!”

Cort looked
upon the face of his brother with regret in his own eyes. But seeing the
determination in his face, he knew that Brenus spoke the truth: he would kill
him for the sake of Melisande.

He took one
last look at the hut he had called home for so long and bestowed a bow of utter
mockery upon his brother and his wife.

“Very well,”
he sneered. “I will take leave of Father and Mother and be off from here. But
you will live to regret this, Brenus. And to rue the day you ever wed this
vixen you were so foolish to take to wife.”

And Cort
turned on his heel and headed for the hut to say his farewells. So hastily did
he leave that he did not hear the last words of Melisande. Nor did her husband
as he suddenly hied after his brother in a burst of regret, only to stop and
drop to his knees, covering his face with his hands. The rustle of the leaves
deadened the sound of his wife’s voice as she murmured to herself.

“Perhaps I
married the right brother after all.”

The sound of
the water lapping against the boat was soothing, a lullaby to his jangled
spirit. The salty air was cool and invigorating, setting his senses tingling
with renewed energy. Cort closed his eyes and breathed deeply, exhaling slowly
and felt the tension in his shoulders relax for the first time since fleeing
Eirinia.

It had been a
fortnight since he left home, and the ship was slowly trudging its way north.
It had been a jolt to see the galley of slaves rowing her forward, for it had
been many years since he had seen a slave. In Eirinia they were subjects of the
Valeriun Empire, but free to roam as they liked. He had not seen a slave since
his last journey to Gaudereaux as a young boy. Gaudereaux…that long ago.

Why did
memories leap to mind of his last visit there? That was the time when Elena,
slave to Pascal and Gaelle had accompanied them, taking the place of Fanchon
who had defected from their ranks. He didn’t like to recall even now how
wounded Dag had been by her decision to remain in Gaudereaux, and how it ended
their betrothal.

Not that Dag
would have found lasting happiness with her, of that Cort was sure. Her love of
frivolity and endless chatter would have worn down any man who wished to seek a
life of contemplation and devotion to Dominio. For Fanchon brooked no rivals
and demanded that all devotion be given to her. Even Dag’s love for a
defenseless orphaned boy had stoked the fires of rivalry in her jealous heart.

A vision of
her laughing face rose in Cort’s mind. He could almost hear her piping laugh
like that of a flute in his ear. Why was her memory suddenly so vivid? He had
not thought of her in such a long time…

Was it due to
being back at sea? He had not gone to sea for many years, not since the days of
the quest when the Empress Aurora had demanded that Marcus Maximus fulfill her
orders, and he had traveled with his friends. What adventures they had shared,
swept along by the River Zoe! He had not known such excitement since, for the
River had taken them where it willed, on a course that it had plotted, and not
where they had planned.

A sudden stop
jerked him back to the present. Why had the ship stopped so abruptly in its
course? For it had stopped so unexpectedly that he had been thrown out of the
chair in which he sat.

He rushed up
to the deck to satisfy his curiosity. An amazing sight met his eyes, and his
jaw dropped in astonishment. The Captain, the crew, and the galley slaves were
all huddled at the brow, staring at the vista before them. On the horizon, the
sea rose up in waves, although there was not a breath of wind to be felt and
the water around them lay in a dead calm.

The sailors
murmured with growing uneasiness, and the Captain’s brow was furrowed in a deep
frown. He chewed his bottom lip as he considered his course of action. The
galley slaves stood at full attention and waited silently for orders.

Cort sidled
over to them.

“What is the
matter?” he drawled. “Why have we stopped?”

The crew acknowledged
his presence with a brief nod of their heads. The Captain drew his gaze back
from the horizon and looked at Cort.

“We know not,”
he muttered. “A flat calm all around us, but beyond, waves erupting at random.
It is not a storm, for then it would be evident beyond those waves and not just
in that one spot. A mystery it is, and one I am not sure I wish to seek the
solution to.”

Cort felt a
tremor of excitement. How he loved a good mystery! His eyes sparkled as he felt
the first glimmer of interest in life since his forced and hasty departure from
Eirinia.

“Let us hasten
with all speed to solve it, for I am agog with curiosity. Come, Captain: why do
men go to sea if not for adventure and to seek new boundaries. And beyond is an
adventure, I’ll swear!”

The crew
caught the contagion of Cort’s enthusiasm, and to a man they seconded his
motion to proceed. The Captain did not seem swayed, and continued to scrutinize
the horizon with an air of trepidation. He looked at his men, and seeing their gazes
fastened upon him, reluctantly gave the order to proceed.

Cort whooped
and the crew joined in and hastened to their places. Cort remained at the rail
next to the Captain, who bestowed a very sour look on him, as though he had
just bit into a piece of unripe fruit. Cort pretended not to notice, and looked
eagerly at the vista ahead.

Slowly the
ship traveled on and the slaves pulled with all their might. The waves turned
out to be further on the horizon than they appeared, and it was some time
before they drew closer. As they did so, the sound of their splashes assaulted
their ears, and the spray of salt water doused them even where they stood.

Now that they
were so close, they could see the cause of the waves. But it only served to
deepen the mystery of their origin…

Behind them
the sea was quiet. Before them it was churning like a whirlpool, with the waves
rippling up from the vortex deep below. As the waves rose up, troughs opened up
as well, and the ship was soon caught up in the swells, to the alarm of the
Captain and the anger of the crew as they rose and fell in the whirling eddies.

Cort felt the
outrage mount against him; for it was he who had suggested they continue on and
explore the source of the mysterious phenomenon. Now, however, he saw that they
had already decided to place all blame upon him for any mishap to their
adventure.

“Be calm, my
good men!” he implored them as they advanced toward him. “We may yet retreat if
necessary.”

Even as he
spoke he knew that course of action was not possible. For the ship was stuck
fast in the maelstrom. He quickly turned back to the rail to ascertain the
source of the turbulence. Only to catch his breath in amazement at the sight
that greeted his astonished eyes.

Rising from
the vortex was the figure of a woman, transparent and composed entirely of
water, yet it was clearly a woman. Cort heard a gasp behind him and knew that
the Captain and crew saw it also. But…what was it?

He quickly
bowed his head and breathed a prayer to Dominio.

“What, Lord?
What is this thing? And how are we to overcome it?”

No sooner had
the words left his lips than the figure grew to a tremendous size and loomed
menacingly before them, reaching out arms shaped like tentacles that sought for
victims to take to a watery grave. And suddenly Cort knew what to do. He
stretched out his arms and spoke in a voice that could have cut through the
ice-clad trees of his homeland.

“Begone, foul
spirit! I take authority over you and your domain in the name of Dominio, the
One true God! No longer shall you wreak havoc on the unwary, for I declare the
Kingdom of Heaven has come, and your realm is left desolate!”

For a moment
as Cort addressed it, the figure appeared to grimace at him and increase in
size, but upon the completion of his declaration it shriveled until it
disappeared completely. Slowly the waters calmed and the waves dropped, leaving
only a tranquil sea ahead of them.

The Captain
and the crew rushed at Cort, but this time with more benign intentions. He
flashed a brilliant smile at them, and laughed at their mouths hanging open
with stupefaction.

“How, how,
but,” the Captain fumbled for words that refused to come.

Cort
understood his confusion and extended his hand to him.

“Permit me to
tell you,” he began, speaking slowly, “about Dominio, and His Son Alexandros,
and the Kingdom of Heaven He came to advance.”

Not all of the
crew believed his message, but several did, and gave their hearts to Dominio
and pledged to serve Him and advance the cause of Alexandros. The Captain was
reluctant to take that step, being of a somewhat cynical nature that accepted
nothing he could not touch, see, or feel. And although he had seen the figure
of the woman, he could not bring himself to agree that it was the words of Cort
that had dispersed it and calmed the sea. Perhaps, he said, it was only a
chimera, and its dissolution only coincided with the words as they were spoken.

Cort did not
press him, but prayed that Dominio would open his eyes and help him to believe.
He quickly found himself the center of a cluster of the crew, who asked him
questions, and importuned him for further teaching. So, he spent the remainder
of his days at sea visiting the crew’s quarters after sundown, instructing
them, praying with them, and most important of all, sharing the love of Dominio
with them.

The
interaction brought a healing to his spirit, as he continued to grieve over his
rift with Brenus. The crew looked to him for leadership, and it caused him to
step out in a boldness he had never thought he possessed, having always left it
to others to take the lead in spiritual matters. Now the fellowship with
believing brothers filled the empty void in his heart that had ached since his
enforced departure from home.

And thus it
was that the ship drifted on until at last it brought Cort to the boundaries of
Valerium. Here he would travel to Potentus, and be reunited with his old friend
Marcus Maximus.