Chapter III
"What do you mean I still can't see him?"
Vathek stood before the door, sullenly avoiding eye contact with Her Majesty. His hesitance served only to feed her frustration.
Elyon whined, "Vathek! Kandrakar's coming to take Cedric who-knows-when. Maybe they'll let me come for visits or maybe they won't. No one's really told me when he's going to be released, and by the time that happens, I might be an ugly old woman."
Indeed, this Oracle guy, whoever he was, hadn't told Elyon—or, as far as she knew, her council—how long Cedric would remain incarcerated in Kandrakar. The Oracle had assured them that Phobos wouldn't be released until he had "wholly comprehended the enormity of his actions."
In other words, probably never, Elyon had thought.
Meanwhile, Cedric's sentence had been more vague. He had committed serious crimes; neither he nor anyone else denied that, but his situation was complex:
"Cedric has broken the yokes placed upon him by Phobos... and himself," the Oracle had said. "True, he cannot go back in time and unravel the evils which he has woven. True, still, Cedric has helped those whom he had called his enemies. He gave comfort to those whom he used to terrorise. He gave rations to those whom he used to starve. And he placed his body at risk of unspeakable torments to reveal to the Light of Meridian the truth after all his lying...
"The Council of Kandrakar shall not ignore that Cedric has acquiesced to his fate in the Tower of Mists. We shall aid him in his full rehabilitation from any further evil he may contemplate and from any evil that has been performed against him.
"However, even I cannot see how long this shall take. I cannot say 'soon,' and I cannot say 'years,' though I shall say that his freedom shall come sooner as the regretful man he is now than if he had remained an arrogant transgressor."
In other words, when Kandrakar felt like it, Elyon had assumed.
According to those familiar with Kandrakar, such vague and poetic language was natural to its saintly residents, but to Elyon, that mystical air seemed pretentious. But hey! What did some earthling-raised adolescent know about communicating clearly? You know, aside from the occasions when she and her peers ran their mouths way too much?
Huffing, Elyon softened her face and voice and clasped her hands together.
"Vathek, I'm begging you, just let me see him. Just a peek! I miss seeing him—I don't need to sit and ramble all day with him, especially if he's not in a talking mood. Just one... tiny... peek..."
"Vathek."
The butterflies in Elyon's heart awoke from their long slumber. That cool, graceful voice seemed untainted by illness or trauma.
"... let Her Majesty enter."
Vathek heaved a sigh and threw his hands in the air. Once he stepped aside, Elyon danced into the chamber as though she wore winged shoes.
Sitting upon a dark teal daybed, next to a tall window, was Cedric.
"Cedric! Cedric, I missed you sooo much!" she exclaimed as she rushed to embrace him. Yes, he was her Cedric, her golden-haired Cedric with the gorgeous violet eyes, those delightfully otherworldly eyes. She recognised the tenseness of his well-honed muscles and the steady serpentine inhalation and exhalation (though a handsome man, not a beast, he was).
"Gaw-aw-awd! I missed you!" she sobbed as she clung to him. Then she gazed into his eyes and said, "I was so worried about you! And when they wouldn't let me see you? Oh, God, it was awful!"
Cedric smiled and cocked his head.
"It's a pleasure to see you too, Your Highness," he said.
"Elyon—Elyon—please, just call me Elyon," she hiccoughed with a grin. "We're not in some stuffy meeting or anything. Just Elyon—or Ellie, even."
Cedric closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"As you wish, my Princess."
Elyon slumped backward, tipped her head, and furrowed her eyebrows. Something was wrong—frightfully wrong. She hadn't expected Cedric to be at all cheerful. Why, she'd thought maybe he'd be more timid and depressed. This, however, was about as creepy as when she had first encountered the 'Infinite brightness to the Light' accolade.
As she stared at her friend, she noticed that his eyes no longer sparkled like polished amethyst. A shadow had cast a lead, dulling hue upon them. Meanwhile, his gorgeous hair had been cut above the shoulders, and it shewn more like fool's gold than true gold.
And his aura? she marked to herself. I thought Julian was bad off! And he was, but this? It's like a bunch of punks were able to grab his energy and drag it for miles behind a car or something. Like, what the hell? What did Phobos do to him?
Cedric tipped his head this way and that way, like a hound patiently awaiting its master's commands. Elyon sighed. Perhaps her earlier exuberance had triggered his odd behaviour (though she couldn't hypothesize why). Nevertheless, she needed to tame her energy before cracking the case of whatever this was that had turned Cedric queerly docile.
"Um... I don't know if you know this yet," she began with a calmer voice, "but I'm actually queen now."
"Really?" he asked with neither feigned nor quite genuine interest.
"Yeah. Had a proper coronation and everything."
Cedric bowed his head and replied, "Congratulations, Your Excellency."
"Thank you," she said with a slight smile. "It was a really awesome ceremony. Really. And, um... Still, it wasn't quite a party without you there."
As she reached to gently touch his face, Cedric flinched and tensed.
"You look better now, though," she continued. "Heh! And Vathek didn't want me to see you.
"Hey! Are you able to transform again? I mean, now that Phobos is locked away?"
Cedric's vacant gaze drifted to the floor. His silence disheartened Elyon, but she continued to remind herself: This is still Cedric. He's still recovering from being in prison, but who he is? Deep down in his heart? That hasn't changed. He's gonna be okay, he's gonna be okay, he's gonna be—
"Cedric?" she wondered, and finally, he managed to look into her eyes again. Not one ounce of life had been stirred.
What did they do to him? What the hell had happened to him in Cavigor Prison? Did she even want to know, if this is what it had done to him—to hundreds of other prisons? God, Phobos was a monster! He was more of a monster in his heart than Cedric was as a snake-man. How she wanted to know! Yet she knew the truth might shatter her into a million pieces.
Elyon's anger sparked to life between her fingers, and Cedric recoiled. No, she wasn't going to hurt him. He had been through enough. Enough was a freakin' enough, she thought.
The cursed shape-shifter gasped as Elyon placed both her hands upon his cheeks. He whimpered and gasped and coughed. He stuttered as he apologised for offending her and begged her to release him. But the Light of Meridian could not be discouraged from what she had determined:
"Whatever Phobos has done to you, I'm undoing it. Whatever he's taken from you, I'm giving it back to you because it is yours... by... right. If I can't heal you from everything that's been done to you, I at least desire this and will make it so. So says the Light of Meridian!"
As she wove her enchantment, the darkness which her brother had embedded pushed against her magic. It snarled and spat; it growled and shoved; but Elyon pushed even harder. Her intention was stronger than Phobos's now. She refused to yield to the daemonical magic that had stripped Cedric of his birth right. By whatever Gods or Oracles could hear her, her endeavor would prevail.
A blue light shewn between the sovereign healer and her terrified patient. The light grew instantly, both its size and brightness, until all that Elyon saw was its brilliance, though her eyes felt no pain or even strain. And before the light fully dissipated, she felt that the curse had already evanesced.
As guards rushed to Cedric's chamber, and as Elyon collapsed upon the daybed, she realised that Cedric lay on the ground, knocked many feet from her, moaning softly. Vathek and two other guards clamoured feverishly around their queen, helping her to her feet, while another four aimed their weapons at the unconscious shape-shifter. Elyon begged them to step back, for he had not harmed her. She had been attempting to heal him.
"Get back, I said!" she commanded as she fell to her knees beside Cedric. Leaning closely to him, she stroked his head and whispered to him, pleading with him to awaken. After the tense minutes passed, Cedric stirred, his breathing hitched, his eyes glazed as he gazed wearily around the chamber.
His moaning rose steadily to terrible wail. His brow touched his knees as he wept, and every time Elyon touched him, he flinched and begged her to leave.
Eyes glossy at her failure, Elyon stood and shambled to join her guards.
"Come on," she commanded, "let's just leave him alone."
The young queen cursed to herself. I thought I had it! Dammit, dammit! All I wanted to do was fix one thing—one thing. Is that so wrong? I didn't expect to heal Cedric from all his trauma. I just want him to be able to shape-shift again. Is that so freakin' wrong, huh? Is that so freakin' wrong?!
To add to her guilt, for all she knew, she had added trauma upon trauma. What a fool she was! What an adolescent fool!
That night, Elyon could only push her food in circles around her plate. Attempts by Alborn and Miriadel to learn of her day were met by sharp barks that she was in no mood to talk. At least Vathek, without opening his big mouth, supported her by looking each adopted parent in the eye and shaking his head.
Of course, why should she have a moment of peace, with that servant rushing in? What did they want? she demanded.
"Lord... Lord Cedric..." he panted. "He's... He's changed into an Aaronag!"
The colour rushed from Alborn's face. "He did what?"
Ceasing her mindless tracing, Elyon sat tall in her chair, her eyes wide and mouth agape.
"Wha... What did you say?"
Leaping to her feet, Miriadel asked in alarm, "Has he hurt anyone? I-is he trying to escape?"
"No, Captain," replied the servant. "We're actually... not sure why he transformed and... isn't doing much else. He was very rude, though, when he demanded we leave him be. I'm quite certain he was mumbling expletives in his native tongue."
While the rest of her dinner guests murmured in alarm, Elyon smiled brightly at Vathek, whom gaped in marvel, and at Caleb, whom smirked triumphantly in shared gladness.
In dogged contradiction of her councillors' advice, Elyon refused to make Cedric's departure a public spectacle.
"Your Majesty, it isn't a spectacle," one had insisted. "The people of Meridian want to see for themselves that he who served as the dreaded general and favourite to the Archenemy is, indeed, on his way to Kandrakar."
"And the best place to do that," had chimed another, "is in the vast, yet still easily secured, Pentecost Square."
The queen had sneered. "Along with a procession... from the castle... to the square, complete with thousands of people cheering and jeering and potentially someone who'll take the opportunity to assassinate him. Within full view of meee... and my guards."
The councillors hummed and hawed, their grins crooked with nervousness. Queen Elyon denied their request. The departure would proceed her way with fifty witnesses, each considered reliable throughout Meridian, summoned to the Great Hall. As Kandrakar had seized Phobos with haste, Kandrakar would receive Cedric with no fanfare (or thrown vegetables) preceding.
Among the fifty summoned were Alborn and Miriadel. Aldarn and Julian had come, and Vathek had brought fellow defectors—all robust, tall, scarred, and stony-faced men—to bid Cedric farewell and good luck. Caleb had not yet arrived, for he had gone to speak with Cedric at length for a final time.
While she waited, Elyon asked, "Did my mother—my birth mother—ever go to Kandrakar?"
"Not to my knowledge," replied Miriadel. "I'm not aware of any reason why the sacred council would have summoned her. Even during the war, she mostly communicated with Kandrakar through the other Guardians."
"Other Guardians?" wondered Elyon.
"The ones before your friends," said Alborn.
"We weren't around yet when they fought alongside Queen Chesed. But something went awry, I guess. I've never asked Yan Lin what happened, but then again, that's one of those things you just don't suddenly bring up to a former combatant."
Elyon hummed. She would have loved to ask Yan Lin if she remembered her mother and what she had been like. Then again, thinking about the deceased queen might stir other memories, ones that ought to remain slumbering.
"Oh, look! A portal!" exclaimed Elyon.
In the middle of the Great Hall appeared a vast, swirling energy coloured lavender and carnation pink. Guards in white armour and white robes stepped forth and bowed before Elyon, whom curtseyed in return. These were the guards of the Tower of Mists, Cedric's new, indefinite home. The Meridian assemblage bowed, and a young Galhot servant escorted the guards to Cedric's chamber.
The palpitations of Elyon's heart drowned the ambient sounds in the Great Hall. She hoped that Cedric was ready—really ready; actually, genuinely, one hundred percent ready. They wouldn't drag him kicking and screaming to Kandrakar if he weren't ready. Right? Kandrakar was supposed to be a peaceful place. Even the Tower of Mists served for more than a place of punishment. It included rehabilitation. And that's what Cedric was getting because that's what he wanted, and that's what Kandrakar wanted. He was going to be okay, he was going to be okay, he was going to be—
"Your Majesty," whispered Miriadel, "Cedric has arrived."
Elyon squeaked and brushed herself down.
With Caleb to his right and the guards of Kandrakar surrounding them both was Cedric, decked in a pale blue robe trimmed with royal blue and embroidered with gold. He held his head high, and as Elyon locked eyes with him, she recognised the shine she hadn't seen in weeks. This was for sure her Cedric, the one with the hypnotic gaze and the soft, nevertheless confident smile.
As the first of his well-wishers queued before the portal, the young queen stepped toward him and raised her arms to embrace him.
"Ah! Your Majesty!" exclaimed the traditionalists. "What are you—"
"Shhh!"
Caleb would have none of their protest, and Elyon didn't care if they did. Cedric was her friend, as dear to her as Cornelia was. He was more of a brother to her than her own blood brother, and she had every right to bid him farewell as she saw fit.
"I never thanked you," began Cedric, "for returning the Gift of O'hiyowo to me."
Elyon's laughter hitched in her throat, and as she wiped the tears from her eyes, she replied, "What are Lights of Meridian for?"
The smile on his face was gorgeous. It was a seam of a smile but still so utterly beautiful.
"Thank you, my Queen," he said, and he kissed her hand.
If Elyon had any words left for him, they had vanished in a comical whirl of supressed excitement. She laid that hand upon her breast and covered it with the other, nursing the brotherly warmth that radiated from it, heedless of the good-byes that the queue issued Cedric. And when he vanished through the portal with the guards from Kandrakar, so too did that warmth.
"Oh!" exclaimed Miriadel as her daughter clung to her. The captain and Alborn enveloped her with parental love and assured her that in time, she could perhaps visit Cedric.
She hoped so. She really hoped so.
"Don't worry, my Queen," said Caleb. "Vathek and I will make sure he's making progess when we visit him."
Indeed, when forty days came to pass, a party from Meridian would set forth for the Tower of Mists to evaluate Cedric. (Phobos had transgressed so iniquitously and felt such an absence of remorse, Meridian had deemed him unworthy and too dangerous for such calls.) Though the date of his freedom remained unknown, the better his evaluations, the sooner his release.
"Thank you, Caleb," said Elyon, and so began the long countdown to the first of many visits.
Annotations:
Pentecost Square (place) named after the Pentecost Oath, sworn by King Arthur's knights at the Round Table every Pentecost. The author's choice of name originates from legends that Escanor was of King Arthur's time. He and other humans might have brought names and concepts from Earth to Metamoor.