King Dom Comes (2 page)

***

Shannon
smiled and picked up her comb, this time running it through her hair to soothe
herself. She barely remembered their meeting, but every time King Malkai told
his story, he never failed to tell her that that was the moment he fell in
love—with both Celine and her daughter.

***

She
had been only four years old, but remembered the tall, commanding man clearing
his throat while slowly approaching her with long, confident strides. He
dropped to one knee, placed his broadsword on the ground before him, and begged
for a moment of her time. He remained with his head bowed as the butterflies
and animals scattered hastily from view, and she felt overwhelmed by his majestic
presence. She had never seen a man so large! She was both frightened and
intrigued, for, through the eyes of a child, he dwarfed the highest mountain
and appeared to nearly touch the clouds. She looked over at her rapidly
approaching mother, who held a rock in her hand. Celine's haunted blue eyes
narrowed as she glared at the handsome intruder.

"What
say you?" she hissed. "Are you here to torment me?"

"Nay,
good woman," the king answered formally, slowly raising his eyes to gaze
upon her beauty. "I give only my respect. I have followed rumors spread
from across the continent to find you. Please, madam, honor me with your
acceptance of my intrusion."

"What
rumors have enticed you to spy upon us? Are you of the church?"

"No,
I follow my own faith, not that which is forced upon me. As for rumors, the
minstrels tell of a beautiful banshee who mourns the loss of love. They say she
will continue to keen until true love is found. I, too, seek true love, but my
keening stays within my heart. Tell me, druid," King Malkai met her eyes,
"are you the banshee that the world sings about?"

"Nay."
Celine shook her head. "Tis not I."

 
A gust of wind encircled the trees, and
Celine froze in silent obedience to nature, watching as the leaves and grasses
bent over in reverent bows to the breeze. Little Shannon tilted her head to
contemplate the interaction between the two adults, and fearlessly rose to her
feet to stand boldly before the odd stranger. She traced her index finger along
the puckered, tight, scar that ran across his cheek.

"Does
that hurt?" she asked innocently.

Malkai's
eyes widened, and he lifted his hand to touch his face. The raised scar
remained, yet the tightness that made it painful to smile was no more. Gently,
he took Shannon's tiny hand in his large one, kissed the tips of her fingers,
and said, "Not any more, child. You have made all the pain leave me. I am
honored that you have chosen me to be the one you touch with your gift."

"You
know what she is?" Celine whispered, her body stiff with fear.

"Aye,
and she is beautiful," Malkai said, gazing into the child's clear blue
eyes. "My son has been blessed with gifts as well. I cherish them and
those who hold them, my lady."

Malkai's
acceptance was instantly understood by the child. Shannon smiled, kissed his
scarred cheek, and ran giggling into the woods. The villagers had been wrong
all along. Celine was not the banshee fae; Shannon was.

***

Shannon
broke away from her memories to look out through the tiny slit in the stone
wall. She had not been allowed to venture beyond the bleak, dirt filled yard
since her arrival so many years ago, and had only been permitted the friendship
of a stray chicken and several goats. Only her mother had known that Shannon
had wished for the death of her father's mistress; nor were outsiders willing
to acknowledge that such a sweet, innocent child could be responsible for the
fate of those who had witnessed her mother's demise. Shannon felt her heart
ache as she recalled the lesson she had learned so early in life; a lesson that
taught the power of ignorance, and to only trust people to believe the worst in
others. She leaned against the cold wall, staring into space as her thoughts
returned to the past.

***

King
Malkai hastily returned to his ship to announce his intent to stay for the
remainder of the summer, and sent his men back to Moldavia to watch over the
crown prince until his return. After years of forced isolation, Celine found
the love and attention that her heart and her spirit yearned for, and the
sounds of keening ceased. Songs of joy once again filled the night air around
the village, often joined by a second voice whose beauty made flowers bloom.
For over four years, the king visited frequently, showering Celine and Shannon
with loving attention and beautiful gifts, including the ivory comb that
Shannon refused to remove from her hair. Shannon began to call him 'Father',
and blossomed under his guidance and care. More than anything, she begged him
to take her and her mother to his homeland so that they could be married, she
could have a father and a brother, and they would all live happily ever after,
in the perfect fairy tale ending.

King
Malkai proposed to Celine on one knee that night, promising her the moon and
the stars if only she would be his wife. Celine declined, smiling as she
stroked the long unruly locks from her cherished daughter's face. She explained
that although her marriage to Dougal was a farce, his jealousy and hatred
prevented him from granting a divorce, and prevented her from being allowed to
live as another man's wife. More so, the swamp was her home and the source of
her faith, and a simple life made her happier than beautiful jewels or an
opulent life ever could. Malkai was disheartened by her decision, but honored
Celine's requests with a sworn promise to ask for her hand every day that they
were together.

Shannon
wiped a tear from her eye, remembering the final months that the three of them
had spent as a family. Malkai had chosen to stay until the early autumn, when
the ground already begun to freeze over in the night, his concerns for the
upheaval in the religious sects from England weighing on his heart. Celine
reassured him, promising that Ireland was safe from the attacks, and urged him
to leave before he was forced to travel through the worst snows of the eastern
European winters. As they said their final farewells, Malkai left with a
promise to return before the first yellow cross of the Celandine flower showed
its head in the thaw of spring, and that his love for Celine would grow greater
every moment that they were apart. As he rode away, Celine released an
anguished cry, her heart filled with pain at seeing her lover depart. Shannon,
heartbroken at the departure of the only father she had ever known, lifted her
voice alongside her mother. The first true cry of a banshee was thus projected
into a world filled with misconceptions and fear, and put the fear of death
into all that were unfortunate enough to hear; including the king himself.

Shutters
were closed and prayers were said, begging God to protect them from the
superstition that the banshee's call meant death was near. Consumed by insane
fits of jealousy and rage, and obsessed with revenge, Dougal decided to make
his move and put a final end to Celine's adultery and dishonor. He crept around
in the frosted darkness and poisoned chickens with contaminated grain, and
waited until morning for the people to see what had occurred. It took little to
rouse the crowd to panic as they faced a winter of near starvation, and they
embraced Dougal's claims that the sin-filled witch must have stolen the lives
of the poultry after losing her lover. Incited by the local priest and his
recitation of the plagues used to punish sinners, a horde of townspeople
rallied together to put an end to the assumed curse upon their village.

Shannon's
ear-piercing wails were smothered by Dougal's rough hand as their tiny hut burned
to the ground, with her mother trapped inside. She broke free and turned to the
crowd, her red hair lifting off her shoulders as the icy wind began to swirl
around her small body. She lifted her hands and unhinged her jaw, instinct
guiding her as she called upon the powers of nature. Standing with her back to
the blazing fire, under the beam of a full moon, she unleashed her full power.
Agonizing screams of villagers spontaneously erupting in dancing flames
suddenly surrounded her, and she turned her rage upon the terrified Dougal. He
clutched his head and staggered to the ground as his body began to boil from
the inside. His scream was garbled by blood rising in his throat, cutting off
his air, until he finally collapsed in a shuddering heap upon the frozen
ground. A fine flurry of snowflakes began to fall upon the charred remains of
the village and the hut, and the air was dense with the scent of burning wood
and flesh.

The
frightened girl realized that she was now truly and absolutely alone, without
even her adopted father to care for her. She ran blindly towards the only
refuge she knew—the swamp. Shivering with cold, her stomach gnawing with
hunger, the child sank against the wet ground and sobbed uncontrollably, numb
to the distant sounds of pitiful screams as bodies were discovered by those who
had not been entrapped by Dougal's lies.

Days
passed, and the weather grew increasingly frigid. The little child fed on old,
withered berries and dried herbs that she gathered, and drank from dirty plates
of ice that covered the soggy soil. The sparse heat from her small, furry
companions failed to warm her, and Shannon began to dream that fairies had come
to lead her back to her mother's loving arms. Exhausted, afraid and ravished by
the cold dampness around her, she relinquished her survival to the hands of the
spirits of the swamp. The sense of cold disappeared, and she began to drift
into the sweet, mindless sleep of death.

How
she had survived was still a mystery, Shannon thought. She gazed around the room
in which she presently stood. It was here that she had been awakened by an
elderly woman who had lovingly touched Shannon's face, and spoken in a language
that she did not understand. Shannon remembered that moment vividly. She had
sat up, stricken with terror, and crying out for her mother, the bog, and home.

Fear
and grief overtook her, and the child began to scream with the blood-curdling
cry of her inheritance. The elderly woman clapped her hands over her ears, pain
registering on her old face as her brain began to pound within her skull.
Salvation came in the form of the man who had entered the room, unaffected by
her screams.

"Shannon!
Shannon, my darling!" the man called out, holding the child's little hands
after dismissing the woman. "My child, be at peace. Shhh, baby girl. It is
I, Malkai. You are safe. No harm has come to you. Please, stop your screaming
before you break every window in this place."

"My
mama! Where is my mama?" Shannon sobbed, allowing the man to hold her
shaking body in his arms.

"Your
mama is gone. My heart aches, as does yours, my love," the king cooed,
rocking the crying girl. "I am so sorry I left. If I had only
stayed…"

"I
want to go home," Shannon pleaded, her face resting on his broad shoulder.
"Take me home! Please, Daddy, please take me home."

"Your
home is no longer, sweet daughter of mine," Malkai's heart ached with the
endearment. "Half of the village disappeared in flames the very night they
took your mother from this earth. My ship's captain saw billows of smoke as we
departed the islands, and we turned back. It took me five days to find you,
child. You have been in a state of twilight for a fortnight and live only by
God's grace."

"Mama…"
the child bawled.

"Shannon,
I need you to listen to me," the king said softly, lifting her chin.
"I must ask you to be a big girl for me. You have the blessings of your
ancestors upon you, and need to be taught how to control your gifts. They are
much greater that I had thought, and I am ill-equipped to provide you the teaching
necessary to control them. I will see that you are cared for and given these
lessons so that you may bring pride to your mother's memory, and keep yourself
safe until such time as I can bring you back with me to Moldavia. Do you
understand?"

"Mama
was not a banshee," Shannon sniffled. "She did nothing wrong."

"She
was pure goodness, my love. It was your father, and the ignorance of the
villagers, who are responsible. Their actions against an innocent brought the
forces of the swamp upon them."

"It
was my doing. I was at fault," Shannon cried guiltily. "I should have
been the one punished, not Mama."

"No,
Shannon. The only ones worthy of punishment were those who hurt you and your
mother. You," he kissed the tip of her nose, "are just a sweet little
girl. My sweet, precious, little girl. I have asked the sisters here to watch
over you until I send for you. This place is safe from the ignorance of the
world and will protect you."

"I
do not want to stay here," Shannon said tearfully. "These are
strangers. Please, let me go home."

 
"Shannon," the man said firmly,
forcing her to look into his eyes, "I need you to be as good as you can
and promise me that you will never wish anything bad upon these kind women. To
disobey me would make me most unhappy with you. You do not want that, do
you?"

"No,"
Shannon whispered. "I do not like your temper when you are angry."

"Then
you will obey me and trust me to keep you safe?" the king asked, his eyes
still locked on hers.