TWO HEADS TWO SPIKES (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga) (7 page)

The fiery sun blazed bright with hardly any clouds, but the gusty Elkridge winds kept the day proportionately cool. Russell stumbled around before he spied a familiar face.

The older man laughed heartily and said, “Ha, ha, ha, there he is, my brave knight.”

His raspy voice sent a sharp, cold shiver up and down Russell’s spine.

“I bet you never had to undress a dead man have you?”

“Never,” answered the young man.

“How can you call yourself a knight and never perform your war duty?” the old salt chuckled.

“I had, uh, other duties that, uh...,” stammered Russell.

The old man cut him off, “Uh, uh, I am just breaking your stones kid. But if you haven’t had to steal from a dead man, you haven’t been to war.”

Russell wanted to go to war, but Ali-Pari wouldn’t acquiesce.

“You probably never seen anything like this neither,” sighed the gruff old soldier.

He lifted his shirt to show Russell but the stink hit him first. It stung his nostrils in a way Russell Seabrook had never experienced before. He considered himself a tough man to have been knighted at sixteen, but this challenged him.

From bellybutton to hip, Terry Underling sported an unsightly gash. The wide cut was purple and black down the center, with a bloody red surrounding. It made the ghostly white flesh next to it even more alarming.

“You are dying?” inquired an astonished Russell.

“If that’s so, I’ve been dying for years,” joked the war veteran.

“Tell me more about war, the bad stuff,” suggested Russell.

Terry began, “See right now you swing that sword around the practice yard. Sure, it sings lovely songs and at the end of the day everyone goes home safe. You eat a nice supper, kiss your girl, maybe pat her bottom and go to sleep in a comfortable bed. But that’s not real, lad. The first time you feel that sword rip through a man’s body, that’s when it becomes real.” He grimaced as he thumbed the wound but kept talking, “It’s said that man is mightier than the sword, but my sword has widowed many a woman.”

Russell jumped in, “But you, a man, had to wield that sword.”

“Aye, that’s true,” he continued, “But when you have been away from your home and family for years, taking people’s lives from their families, that’s when you start to question it. Especially when you see childhood friends sliced straight through the neck and their bloody heads land by your foot. Then you watch your brother take a sword through the stomach and I can tell you it’s not pretty to watch any man try to shove his guts back into his body.”

Russell’s stomach started to stir as the zealous man carried on, “I threw up. I looked like you did a little while ago when I showed you my little cut. And then you realize the sword is a pretty damn close second. Then, once you start to be able to stomach the death, the freezing, the stinking, the starving, you realize that we lose even if Donegal wins. I have seen tens of thousands of men slain in the name of the great King of Donegal. I knew many a man who died for Ali-Baster before Ali-Stanley. They laid their lives down for the King who died on the golden chamber pot. They gave up everything for a man who couldn’t survive taking a shit.”

Russell interrupted, “What are you talking of? Ali-Pari told me King Ali-Baster died on the throne, ruling the realm.”

Terry laughed heartily, “Of course that is what a Wamhoff told you. Fuckin’ hells, they aren’t going to tell everyone in the realm that the king keeled over on the pot.” He settled down as he continued his story, “Not one of these men I speak of ever saw the king. I have never seen either of my kings nor the Capitol for that matter. I am just a poor sea boy thrust directly into the front lines of a fox king’s fantasy war. The great Ali-Stanley waves his magic scepter and men like me die.”

Russell was a little distressed, but he’d asked for it.

Terry went on with his story, “Most men have no idea why the war is even being waged. And the king uses phrases like WE are at war. King Ali-Stanley is still spending away to glory, having feasts and tourneys. He kisses his wife and family every day. He even sends his own son into the action he never saw himself. He sits in the palm of luxury and has the nerve to speak of sacrifice. Hah!” Terry agonized over his wound as he went on, “I was once gone for fourteen years fighting a war that accomplished nothing. I returned to find my loving wife had passed. She has been gone for five years, but I can still see her face right now, like it was just yesterday.”

Terry Underling closed his eyes and had a quick smile wiped away by a very painful look.

Russell cut in, “Are you alright my friend?”

“Aye,” grunted Terry as he kept telling his story, “We ate when rations were available, slept on the rocky ground and I killed more men than I care to count. These men never wronged me. They waved a different flag than me and for that I slayed them like animals. And maybe because I ruined so many people’s dreams, the nightmares still haunt me. They all involve the wives of the men I killed. I don’t know them, but they know me in these dreams, nightmares really. They show up to kill me every damn night. Now that is sacrifice. For the good of the realm, hah. Have I scared you enough, lad?”

Terry started coughing uncontrollably. Russell was really perturbed when Terry spit a wad of blood on the ground.

Is he dying right now
?

“Are you going to be alright?” a concerned Russell asked.

“Oh, I am fine, lad. This happens all the time. That’s the glory of the privilege to serve in the Donegal army,” smiled Terry, exposing his red teeth.

The day was making Russell feel ill.

“I need a drink, kid. I guess I’ll see you around,” said Terry as he scrambled off toward the tavern.

Russell simply nodded his head. He had undertaken digging for answers today but only more questions sprouted up. He noticed Edburgh Etburn moving quickly down the street so he hustled over to him.

Russell tapped Edburgh on the shoulder and asked, “How are you, my Lord?”

“Just fine, Sir Russell,” Edburgh mumbled as he hurried away.

“Fare thee well, my good Lord,” Russell yelled.

Now Russell knew something was amiss. He was naïve, but Edburgh had never called him Sir Russell before and only gave him respect in the company of Ali-Pari.

Maybe he is just as confused as I am? At least he has Caroline with him to travel life’s path. I think I might need a walk in the Frozen Forest to discover some answers. I must tell Ali-Pari I will be leaving for several days. I suppose I will have to perform my duty before I leave
.

The horse’s hooves thudded along the moist beaten trail, launching mud in every direction. It had rained last night and the Queen’s dress paid the price. Most women, let alone a queen, never rode their horse in a dress. The two raced away from the rank odor that flowed throughout Falconhurst. The sewage system had failed again and the residents of the Capitol suffered the inconvenience. It was a bright spring day with the wind howling. Puffy clouds swept in occasionally, stealing the sun’s rays. The Queen headed toward the wooded area on the outskirts of the eastern side of the Capitol. The petite Queen sat atop her simple white horse in an amber saddle. Her protector rode alongside, controlling a dark brown horse that wore a black saddle.

They stopped and jumped off their horses. Sir Anderley Ellsworth cinched the horses to a post on the side of the trail. It was a nice early harvest day in Falconhurst as the Queen looked at the flowers just starting to bloom. They strolled off the worn path into some thick brush and spotted the little clearing.

“AAAHHH!” the Queen suddenly screamed as she ran behind the knight.

He pulled a small dagger from his hip and flung it toward the ground. It pierced the red-tailed snake that had scared the Queen, killing it on the spot. The Queen released her tight grip from Sir Anderley but her heart still pounded with fear. She hated snakes possibly more than anything else. Sir Anderley pulled out the knife, tossed the serpent aside and cleared the way. In the middle of the short green grass sat a glowing amethyst plant. The sun perfectly penetrated the trees at that point and made the plant shine. Silly smirks came over the faces of the Queen and Anderley.

Emilia Burke Wamhoff, Queen of Donegal, was petite to the extreme, but a perfectly proportioned miniature woman. She sometimes looked like a child next to the enormous King, but even so most people saw her as a fully grown, sexy woman. Her curly brown hair swept down to the small of her back and her green eyes complemented it perfectly. The Queen spoke with a high pitched, girlish voice even though she was thirty-three. Her bronze skin tone glowed in the partial sunlight.

Sir Anderley Ellsworth took the small flat plank out of his satchel and gripped it in his left hand. He held it over the object of the Queen’s fancy. He pulled the lavender bud from the plant with his right hand. Anderley smashed it against the board and ground it in with his thumb.

He offered it up to the Queen. She patted the powdery substance with two fingers and rubbed it on her tongue. Sir Anderley repeated the process and the Queen went for a second taste. She rubbed the amethyst on her gums this time and then on her full, luscious lips. It tasted terrible but the final effects were what the Queen wanted. Her eyes twitched and the Queen started sweating. Her stomach felt terrible and swirled around, churning until she almost threw up. Then suddenly, pleasure spread through her entire body as the plant took effect just in time. She used drugs because she felt very lonely in the castle and they made her feel good. She had never felt accepted by the Wamhoff family, especially the older women. The Queen glanced up at the sunlight through the tree branches and the green leaves oddly turned purple.

Thank the Gods did I need this
.

The Queen and Anderley were great friends, but they often spent hours together barely speaking. Balance became extremely difficult and the Queen stabilized herself on a low tree branch. The branch felt funny in her hand, it made her fingers tingle.

“What shall you do today, my Queen?” Anderley wanted to know.

“Huh,” the Queen said through her purple haze, “How about…we go to the duels?”

Anderley never denied the Queen her wishes. He lived inside a diminutive, fit body with long brown hair and blue eyes. He wore his hair in a ponytail most of the time. He had forfeited all his lands and titles as heir to Lightview to pursue a life of honor. The knight became a member of the King’s Guard four years ago but ironically spent most of his time protecting the Queen.

When they reached the horses, the Queen’s eyes seemed to be dancing in her head.

A concerned Anderley asked, “My Queen, will you be alright to ride?”

She focused her vision and replied, “I am fine, this one just hit me a bit harder than before.”

They both mounted and took off for the Dueling Yard. The Dueling Yard served dual purposes. If the prisoners won seven duels, which were single combat fights to the death, and served seven years in the army, they became free men again. Wooden benches were built all around the yard for people to sit and watch. The citizens placed bets on the fights and cheered on their favorite criminal champions. Twenty minutes later, the Queen and Sir Anderley arrived at the Dueling Yard. A man ran up to the Queen and Anderley, eager to watch their horses. Anderley gave him two coppers and the pair proceeded toward the yard.

The seats were configured in a horseshoe pattern with one end open for entering and leaving. The tiers of seats around the well of the Dueling Yard ascended toward the back and could hold about seven hundred people. The pair strolled into the yard and felt the morbid excitement in the air. Some of the fans belted out crazy sounding screams and others cheered in the seats. Two criminals battled for their lives in the middle of the Yard. The massive crowd roared like a starving beast. The thirst of blood appeared more prevalent in the audience than on the yard of battle sometimes. Most of the audience members were highborn who gambled heavy piles of gold on the fights. On either side of the yard the future combatants lined up for inspection. The Queen and Sir Anderley sized them up, seeing what match-ups they wanted to gamble on. Everyone bowed to the Queen in reverence as she passed. They knew she came from commoner roots with a lucky last name.

The King had gone to Burkeville to visit his sister after the death of his first wife, Parys. He met Emilia during a walk through the woods and instantly fell for her. Emilia’s family, the Burkes, had strained family ties with the Duke of Burkeville. Her father was the cousin of Duke Aston Burke, who wouldn’t even let Emilia’s immediate family in his castle. She grew up not knowing the cause of the feud. They had lived within an hour of the Duke’s castle but her father simply told her never to go there. But that day she had sneaked into Arigold, the Capitol of Burkeville, to see what the King looked like. They found each other and the King fell in love with the beautiful fourteen-year-old.

A king marrying a woman with no last name influence ruffled a few feathers, but a determined king always gets his way. He had validated it by saying that the Burke last name was good enough. And although the Queen appeared somewhat simple in thought, she remained beloved by the people of the city. She mingled with them and gave them respect in return. Most of the city hated King Ali-Stanley, but the citizens were always receptive of Queen Emilia. She needed little protection around the Capitol, but Sir Anderley still escorted her everywhere.

They were whisked right up to the front row, closest to the action. Two men squared off in the middle of the grassy yard. One man stood almost twice the size of his opponent. Fitted with black armor, the mammoth man held a colossal wooden shield and small war axe that he operated with one hand. The tiny man wore silver armor that hung poorly from his body, leaving plenty of exposed area. It shone in the sunlight, along with his little sword. The little guy had protected his head with a silver eagle-shaped helm as he readied for battle. Both prisoners had won two brawls already, but the Queen and nearly all of the gamblers bet on the giant.