Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel (46 page)

Rolf’s father came up to accept the medal on
his son’s behalf, and a Bulwark contractor, a distant cousin of
Hogard, accepted the medal on Hogard’s behalf. It was a bittersweet
moment, but the crowd whooped and cheered their approval.

Josie looked for her sister Jo and mother in
the crowd. There they were in the front, standing next to Lars’s
parents and siblings. They beamed with familial pride. She could
hardly stand so much joy at once. The squad was dismissed. Josie
was making their way back down the steps with the rest of them when
Elizabeth spoke into the podium microphone again.

“Josephine Rose Albright, please come back
up here.”

An
irrational fear that they were about to take way her medal gripped
her chest. Maybe the council had gotten wind of how she had killed
Willow and Big Clo. A murderer didn’t deserve a medal of valor. No,
Josie Albright, the Bitch of Galatia, only deserved scorn. Didn’t
she?

“We have one more medal to
bestow. The first of its kind, the highest in the land, awarded by
the leadership of Galatia for heroic displays of gallantry,
fortitude, foresight and bravery in the face of extraordinary
adversity. We’re calling it the
Red
Wakeland the First Award
, given to those
who follow in his giant footsteps.”

The moment was surreal as General Red
offered her a golden ax.

“Congratulations, Miss Albright. Job well
done.”

The handle was inscribed
with these words:
In memory of Red
Wakeland the First, the nation of Galatia honors Josephine Rose
Albright for exceptional service to her country, above and beyond
the call of duty
.

She accepted the ax with both hands.
Heavy.

Lars was at the front of the crowd with the
rest of the squad, cheering wildly, but the roar faded away. For a
moment, she was transported back to the cathedral from her dreams.
Pillars rose to a groin-vaulted ceiling. There was the topaz dome
swirling above and the pool below, swirling with mists, which she
now recognized as the Mouth of God. There was the Angel of Galatia,
still hard at work, forging swords, the sound of his hammer echoing
off the cathedral’s sacred walls. There was Red Wakeland the First
in his flannel shirt and T-shirt, leaning on his ax. Zena sat at
his feet, looking furry, mighty and majestic.

“You think the journey’s over,” Red the
First said, “but it’s ready to begin.”

“I don’t understand. Begin what? Begin
where?”

“Brick-by-brick, stone-by-stone, you must
build the Heart of Galatia.”

An instant later she was back on the landing
in front of the National Building.

“Do you have any words you would like to
share with us?” Judge Elizabeth was asking, pulling Josie back into
the celebration.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

She went to the podium and laid her golden
ax across its wooden surface.

“This award is so much cooler than one that
was stolen from me at the high school talent show.” Lindsey grinned
sheepishly from the crowd, whilst the rest of the squad laughed at
the inside joke. “Boys and girls, men and women, we kicked the
Alliance’s butt and now we’re our own damn country. I don’t know
what the future holds, but tonight we celebrate the human race.”
With that she held her trophy high, and shouted, “Arise, Galatians,
arise!”

Four Weeks After the Coup Against Red
Wakeland

(Prince Valdor Saberhart)

Prince Valdor led Tectonia’s cavalry down
Spy Run, the great dirt highway that spanned from the Northlands
all the way down to the southern sea. He had left Galatia more than
two weeks ago, but words traveled faster than four legs. He was
sure his father had already gotten the news—Galatia was a sovereign
nation now. One didn’t have to be a genius to see their potential
as a major power.

A lone figure with beautiful blonde tresses
distracted Valdor from his thoughts. She walked alongside the road
carrying a carpetbag. Her velvet gown looked expensive, but the
tattered hem had seen better days.

Curious, and not wanting to scare her, he
rode up to her side. Her tapered and smooth fingers hinted that she
was upper class. Wait a moment, there were ten in all. A Galatian,
he realized. He also recognized their characteristic belligerence
in her steady stare, and of course, the dazzling white teeth.

Instead of feeling anger toward this one
though, he found himself enchanted by her cornflower-blue eyes and
silky complexion. Full lips the color of passion tantalized the
imagination. Prince Valdor, who prided himself on his intellectual
and emotional discipline, fell instantly in love.

“I have no money,” she said
matter-of-factly. “Nothing of value. Please, be on your way and
leave me in peace.”

Finding his voice, trying to hide the tumult
of emotions raging through him, he asked, “What is your name? Why
are you traveling alone so far from Galatia?”

“I never said I was from Galatia.” She
glanced warily behind her as if just noticing the army riding
behind him with their lances, billowing banners and swords.

“My powers of observation are keen,” the
prince said. “So, answer my question.”

“My name is Josephine, but everyone calls me
Feenie. If you must know, I was accused of a crime I didn’t commit.
Afraid for my life, I fled from Galatia in the middle of the
night.”

Although she remained stoic, a single tear
glided down her perfect cheek.

“What kind of crime?”

“Witchcraft, treason, murder and everything
under the sun.”

“Is there truth to any of the charges?”

“Do I look like a criminal to you?”

“No more so than the Lily of the Valley, the
rambling rose, or the gold of the sunset.”

She turned her head away, hiding it behind
her golden tresses, chest flushed pink.

“My staunchest soldiers wouldn’t travel Spy
Run alone. I fear a woman like you won’t last long without
protection.”

“If I had a choice in the matter, I’d not be
here at all, but my options are limited. I can read and write
though. And I’m adept with numbers, so I was hoping to find a job
as a tutor. Perhaps a governess.”

“Come with me and I will find you a position
in Tectonia.”

“Why would you do this for me—a complete
stranger?”

“I-I don’t know,” he said, not understanding
it himself, “but allow me this honor.”

Her eyes lit up, making him feel weak all
over. By the throne of Tectonia, she was the grandest creature he
had ever seen.

“Normally, I would decline such an
invitation from a stranger, but I’m hungry and my feet can’t take
much more of this. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all,” he said, helping her up onto
his back of his own black stallion, which earned more than a few
raised eyebrows form his soldiers. But they would never question
him. He climbed on in front.

“You will have to wrap your arms around me
to keep from falling.”

When she did, lightning bolts passed through
his body, making him shudder in the most exciting way.

“What is your name, kind sir?” she
asked.

“I am Prince Valdor of Tectonia.”

“A prince?” She acted surprised, even though
she would have to be daft not to notice the crown. “I thought my
life was over. Perhaps this is a sign that good fortune is smiling
down on me.”

“Indubitably.”

.......................................

(Magus Mull)

Magus Mull watched his
lover climb aboard the horse to wrap her arms around the Prince of
Tectonia. His jaw clenched as he thought about the things she would
do to steal his heart and soul—and ultimately the ancient spell
book of
Malachi Beldeziak. Except for a
handful of historians, buried for a thousand years in a chamber
below the Saberhart palace, the book that had ruled the world for a
thousand years was all but forgotten.

The demi-god, Glonare, suddenly materialized
behind Mull in his animalistic form--on four hooves, a rake of
horns dripping with rotting moss, and smooth black metal for his
hide. With every breath, Glonare’s bullish snout fogged the air,
spreading the odor of smoke and decay, smothering the area with his
malevolence.

“As I promised you, not even a genius like
Valdor can resist her love spells.” Glonare’s voice was hollow and
deep.

“Not at first anyway,” Mull said, “but its
effects will dissolve quickly on a man with a strong mind.”

“By that time, I am confident that the human
woman will have already manipulated him into doing my bidding.”

“We couldn’t even hold onto Galatia,” Mull
replied. “Taking over Tectonia seems impossible.”

“Mortals,” Glonare said with contempt.
“Always thinking in small segments of time. We don’t need to take
over Tectonia today, only its future king, and tomorrow it will be
handed over to us like John the Baptist’s head on a plate.”

“Who is John the Baptist?”

“An enemy of old.”

“How long will I have to wait to get Feenie
back?”

“She doesn’t need to control Valdor forever,
just long enough to excite his curiosity about the dark arts. His
pride will do the rest.”

“Does this mean we’re done with the
Galatians?”

“Until the line of Adam and Eve dies out
completely, we can never rest.”

..............................

Six Months After the Coup Against Red
Wakeland

(Michael Penn)

On a cool spring morning, a crowd had
gathered where the grasslands met a line of cliffs spanning miles
in either direction. My elderly mother was saying her goodbyes to
my two youngest brothers—Barrett and Bryce. The three of them were
standing just outside of the southern border of Galatia, while a
small army of angelic sword bearers waited several yards away. The
leader of the sword bearers, my brother General Red Wakeland, stood
beside me white-knuckling his angelic staff. Our faces were grim as
we watched the scene unfold.

Found guilty of treason, Barrett and Bryce
Fade deserved what was coming to them and probably more. Instead of
a death sentence, however, they had been exiled from Galatia. So
why did I feel bad—like I was picking on my little brothers? It was
hard to wrap my mind around the idea that I’d never see them
again.

Red and I had already said our farewells to
them at the jail. It would have been easier if Barrett hadn’t been
so contrite. He sincerely regretted the part he had played in
trying to overthrow Red and take over Galatia. And it was clear the
deaths of Sam and Nora had ate away at his conscience long before
Gizmo and Isaiah had brought it to light. While he owned up to his
misdeeds, he also blamed his wife. His hatred for Feenie had grown
over the months. All I heard was how she had manipulated him, how
she had used potions on him, how her spells had made him lose his
reason. There was some truth to it—hence the lighter sentence. Some
said he should be given a pardon. Others wanted his head. Exile had
become the compromise. After the brutal trail, he looked broken,
shrunken into a lesser creature. Bryce, on the other hand, hadn’t
changed much. He remained quiet and detatched.

I watched Mom cup Bryce’s face and kissed
both of his cheeks. After a long embrace, she moved over to
Barrett. He leaned down to press his face into her shoulder, where
he wept. Mother ran his fingers through wavy dark hair like she
used to when he was little. After a long while, mother returned to
the front line, eyes red and limbs shaking.

“My robe, please.” Red wrapped her in the
symbol of her authority. His hands lingered on her shoulders in a
show of support.

“My gavel, please.”

I handed it over and she took a step
forward.

“I, Judge Elizabeth Wakeland of Galatia,
hereby declare that from this day forward, Barrett Fade and Bryce
Fade are banned from these lands now and forever.” Holding her
gavel higher, she continued. “Additionally, all communication and
contact with Galatian citizens, including family and friends, will
cease. Do not to write, do not call, do not engage in any form of
correspondence, directly or indirectly, electronically,
charismatically, magically or in other ways not mentioned. If you
violate these conditions of your exile, the sentence of exile will
automatically revert to the death penalty.”

“Make haste, be gone, and good riddance.”

General Red gestured at sword bearers with a
flip of his wrist. They immediately turned their backs to our
brothers. Everyone else did the same, even mother, who had remained
strong for about two minutes before collapsing with grief in Red’s
arms.

I couldn’t help myself, after a couple of
minutes I had to turn around to see Barrett and Bryce one last
time, but the place where they had been standing in the meadow was
empty. And so was a piece of my heart.