TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga) (14 page)

“STOP AT ONCE,” screamed the King, only to have Ali-Varis crash both hands on the table over and over again while shaking violently.

The Giant grabbed the Prince from behind, but he shrugged him off by throwing his shoulders back. He possessed amazing strength when he went into these episodes. Sir Thomas and Sir Nate jumped on Ali-Varis and wrestled him to the ground with pure-muscle power.

After several minutes of struggling, Count Silzeus slowly walked back in and Penrose rushed over to him. He grabbed the heavy dose of night-shade that the Count had just retrieved from his quarters. He ran over to the knights who had Ali-Varis on his back and the Giant pried his mouth open. Penrose dumped the liquid down Ali-Varis’ throat and yanked his hand away, but not soon enough. The tip of his thumb bled profusely as Ali-Varis took out a little chunk when his jaw clamped shut. Penrose wanted to punch the Prince but he quickly calmed himself and retreated from the scene. He took a linen napkin from a table and wrapped it around his thumb. He looked over to see the Fox Chapel knights carrying a knocked-out Prince Ali-Varis Wamhoff to his quarters.

As they passed, Elisa Wamhoff appeared from behind the commotion. The look of terror on her face sexually excited Penrose in a sick, sadistic fashion. He tried so hard to fight these thoughts, only to have them return stronger every single time.

Sir Anderley made his way over to Penrose, “Are you alright? How bad did the fat half-wit get you?”

Penrose looked up to respond but he was cut off by Otto Cuthbart, “Oh, the pretty little boy got himself a little cut on his thumb. Just cut it off you little sissy.”

He slurred his words since he was terribly drunk. Otto Cuthbart, a small man with a behemoth mouth, couldn’t control himself.

The Cuthbarts were one of the wealthiest families in Fox Chapel. Since his appointment to Chamberlain of the Realm, his already enormous ego had grown to epic proportions. Penrose didn’t respond verbally, he just stared straight into his soul.

Don’t push me, old man. The beast is demanding to be fed.

“You didn’t mess up your make up now, did you?” said Otto as he laughed at Penrose.

Again, silence and a chilling glare was Penrose’s answer.

We shall see who laughs last, you drunken bastard. And by all means keep drinking. Drink up
.

Sir Penrose Ellsworth walked away from the little, bitter man to return to the King’s side. The Ellsworth family was even more prominent and Penrose knew that he could smash Otto like a jousting dummy. As he stood behind the King, the voices shrieked in his mind. They wanted blood, and they wanted it now.

Shut up. Not now. Stop it
.

He tried to solely focus on the King’s safety. He glanced around the room and saw the shadowy figure from Waters Edge still lurking in the corner of the room. The voices were demanding to taste the fluid of vitality tonight, and they would not take no for an answer.

EDBURGH

His mother, Ali-Pari Wamhoff, finally left. She usually didn’t stay this late at parties. Now Ed could stop looking like a shady character in this corner and really join the party. He couldn’t let his mother know he’d come to the wedding or what he was planning. The once close Etburn family now stood divided. In their meeting, the King told him to attend the party incognito. King Ali-Stanley had said that Edburgh would receive grand rewards after completion of the plan.

Ed had told everyone back home that he needed to get away after Caroline’s death to clear his head. He had never really felt loved in the Etburn castle. His brother Rollo had loved him before he died, so did his mother before Russell Seabrook came along. But after four sons, Ali-Pari really wished Edburgh had been a girl. She was forty-four at the time and she loved her fifth son, Ed, until Russell became her favorite. She had even forced Duke Etburn to make Russell a knight.

What a joke that boy is.

Ed didn’t miss his family and certainly tried to avoid his mother.

Ed had been staying at a rundown inn on the outskirts of town. The good ones were already booked due to the wedding. He remained constantly tired from the rag that the innkeeper passed off for a bed and the nightmares that awakened him every night. Even though Ed still believed he had to kill his wife, she murdered him every time he tried to sleep. She brought the knife down again, but this time Ed’s hands were powerless to stop the cold steel from driving deep into his heart. He didn’t want to attend the wedding because he thought it would remind him of Caroline. He was correct on that account. But he had a very important reason for being here tonight.

There she stood, right next to the bride. Ali-Gare Wamhoff looked even more impressive in person than in the stories. He hadn’t seen her in ten years but she had aged beautifully, like red wine from Abbey Grove. He remembered a skinny teenager, but this was a stunning woman. Many men had claimed they would marry the Princess and suddenly it appeared Edburgh Etburn actually had a real chance. He quickly remembered that his brother had been happy for only a few days after his Ali-Gare betrothal.

As he peered around the room, the guests were either high on food, booze, or both. The fools and jesters worked the party now, trying to entertain the intoxicated guests. He suddenly saw that the King appeared to be retiring for the evening. Ed knew he had to seize the moment to carry out his duty. He moved quickly to catch up to the King; he’d only come here to do this. He moved faster now and was only four feet away. Edburgh closed the gap and just as he got within reach, Sir Penrose Ellsworth came out of nowhere and planted his forearm in Ed’s chest, knocking him onto his back.

“Your majesty,” screamed Ed.

The King looked down, squinting, and pulled Penrose back.

“Leave him be, Sir Penrose. He is my guest,” said the King.

“I am sorry but I don’t like anyone to rush the King of Donegal as he just did,” Penrose exclaimed.

“Thank you for due diligence, Penrose. Now what is it you want, my boy?” the King asked as he turned his attention to Ed.

Now fully upright, Ed said, “I just wanted to pay my respects for such a lovely wedding and wanted to thank you for everything, your highness. That is all.”

You know what I want.

“The pleasure is mine. I believe manners should still count for something. Oh, this is my wife, Queen Emilia.” The King had to struggle to get his wife’s attention as her eyes were almost closed.

“Oooh, who is this big boy?” asked the Queen as she ran a drunken hand across Edburgh’s chest.

The King slapped her hand down and said, “You will have to excuse my wife, she is very…tired so it seems. This is an example of those vanishing manners I just spoke of.” He leaned in to Ed and quietly stated, “I will call for you in a few days. At the right time you will find somebody wearing this silver fox pin,” he showed Ed the pin, “He will be standing by King Ali-Dus Wamhoff’s bronze statue around mid-day. Say the word “pearl” to him and he will bring you to me for the answer. Now stay safe, my boy.”

“Yes, your highness, thank you again,” Edburgh bowed as the King grabbed his wife and walked away.

With that accomplished, he turned his attention back to Ali-Gare Wamhoff. The King had told him if he decided to go through with Ed’s plan that he would receive Ali-Gare’s hand in marriage. Ed now stared at his prospective bride, stopping occasionally to sip his wine. He felt extremely out of place here. No one wanted to talk to him. He said hello to a lot of guests but never had any conversations. He felt like the King’s hit man, not his nephew, lurking at the party. He finally broke his dead stare of Ali-Gare but still thought of her. He hoped she could divert his mind from Caroline and maybe stop the nightmares. Ed knew he would also be the envy of every man in the free world.

Sometimes you have to be torn down completely in order to rebuild. Maybe I need to make my own family now
.

He knew he shouldn’t look too far ahead, but Ed wanted to dream for a moment.

He decided it was time to leave and walked out of the castle. Moonlight flickered between the trees as the wind shook their leaves, occasionally brightening different areas. A slight fog floated along in the dim night light, presenting a paradise for thieves. Ed had a long walk to his horse and clutched a straight knife in his right hand.

You can never trust anyone in the Capitol
.

He was going back to the inn, getting as drunk as he could, and attempting to stay asleep tonight.

The King had told Ali-Ster very little about why they were riding away from the city toward the mountains on horseback. King Ali-Stanley only conveyed that he needed answers. Of course, Sir Penrose tagged along for the ride to protect them on this dark spring night. The moon hung low in the sky but was only a slight crescent and the clouds covered it most of the time. A faint breeze cut through the dense fog but visibility was poor. Ali-Ster followed the sounds of the other horses hoping to avoid tree branches and other pitfalls.

It was the seventh day of the month, so Ali-Ster knew this had something to do with the Gods. It was often said that the Gods opened their ears to humans on this particular day. He had never spent much time with his father before he left at fourteen, so he had never realized how much the King depended on religion. Ali-Ster believed that men relied on the Gods too much for protection. He saw men praying on the ground as they died a bloody death. Quite ironic, he thought, they were basically thanking the Gods for delivering doom.

Death is part of life. Prayers will never protect me.

The fog suddenly lifted like a blanket in the morning. The trio rode up to the base of a hill he had never seen before. An opening appeared in the rock. It measured eight feet high and appeared to have two fangs suspended from the top. It stretched about four feet wide and the King halted his horse about ten feet away. Sir Penrose and Ali-Ster followed suit.

Everyone jumped down as the King said, “Penrose, take our horses and wait right over there, please.”

“With honor, my King,” he replied.

“Alright Ali-Ster, let’s go,” King Ali-Stanley ordered.

Ali-Ster followed him toward the venomous-looking opening.

As they approached, King Ali-Stanley Wamhoff turned to his son, “We must genuflect, my boy.”

The two sank to one knee and three red cardinals flew from the tunnel. An instant later, thousands of red birds flooded through the opening, flying in one steady stream for about a solid minute. After the last bird rushed from the darkness, a rolling cloud followed.

“They are ready for us,” asserted King Ali-Stanley.

This black-magic type religion wasn’t something Ali-Ster understood. He had always maintained that sound reasoning would guide people better than praying for answers.

Dimly lit torches faintly illuminated the cave. Two large wooden totems of the Gods were the first thing they passed on the right and left sides of the tunnel. Just beyond that staggered a spooky-looking man, burning incense clutched in both hands. It smelled like a cross between rosemary and cinnamon as Ali-Ster trailed his father toward the man. The man with a shaven head wore a black robe that hung loosely on his gaunt body. His eyes had black and purple flesh around them as if he had been severely beaten, yet the rest of his face was frighteningly pale.

The King kneeled before him as the bald man held the incense beneath his nose and prompted him to inhale the smoke deeply. The King sucked it in and exhaled heavily. Ali-Ster tried to mimic his father but he choked as he exhaled the wicked concoction. Unfortunately, he had to repeat the process six more times. The smoke made Ali-Ster so dizzy he didn’t think he could stand up again. The burning smoke danced in front of his bloodshot eyes, taking the shape of a woman, before it vanished into thin air. His heart raced and though he rarely drank, Ali-Ster felt rotten drunk. His father hooked his hand through Ali-Ster’s right arm to pull him up. The young man stumbled, but regained his balance as they headed farther into the depths of the cave.

The path got increasingly narrow and the light became progressively dimmer until it faded to pitch black. Finally some torches ahead provided light for the two. Seven symbolic torches aided in showcasing images of each of the Gods that were carved into the walls. A misshapen, rectangular wooden door waited at the end of this haunting march.

It feels like we are headed for the belly of the beast.

The King immediately opened the door without fear and pulled in a reluctant Ali-Ster. The door opened into a small room with colossal torches in each corner. Under the torches were what appeared to be dragon skulls about the size of a normal man curled into a ball. He had never seen a dragon skull before, but he felt sure that is what they were. Bats hung upside down, covering the ceiling, about eight feet above. There was an altar in the middle of the room that Ali-Ster spotted in spite of his disorientation. It looked about four feet tall and the base was made of human skulls stacked on top of each other. The table had a flat, off-white top that seemed to be crafted of bone. A straight line of assorted colored candles stretched from end to end. Smoke slowly escaped from the apertures of the skulls. It filtered through their eyes, noses and mouths as his father dragged him even closer.

They kneeled down in front of the altar as a figure ascended behind the smoke. When the smoke thinned, Ali-Ster was stunned. A woman with snakes for hair appeared to be floating off the ground. His head was still scrambled but it looked like she wore nothing but her soul as she levitated behind the altar. Her pale skin tone almost glowed in the torch light and white and purple snakes intertwined as she slowly drifted back and forth. Her eyes were rolled back into her head so Ali-Ster only saw the whites. To Ali-Ster’s befuddled senses each event was more mind-blowing than the one before it.

The King spoke loudly, his voice on the verge of a scream, “I come again for answers from the Gods about a plan that was posed to me.”