Chapter Eight– Carnage In Our Passing
King Richard paced his throne room. To either side of his throne stood two Knights
of Gold, the royal guards. More stood by the door, but the day had been strangely
uneventful. No requests from the people, no squabbles to resolve. And in all
this time no word from Duran. Only Stella, each day reporting that no word had
come and Wendy is recovering. Mana was failing them slowly, and the six great
warriors of this era vanish. Vanish! They let this daemon-wolf, if it truly
exists, drive them about like sheep.
King Richard cursed under his breath. He had sent messages to Queen Valda, Queen
Lise, the Beast King, and the ruler of Navarre, King Flamekin. None had replied,
except for a cursory note from Rolante stating that the Queen was away, and
they had enough to deal with there. Now he knew that what was happening in Forcena
must be taking place all over the world.
Mana was rising again, but wildly, influenced by something unpredictable almost
to the point of insanity. Some even claimed the Ghost Ship could be seen again,
and the Flaming Desert was occasionally bursting into lightning, the sand blackening
into dark, molten glass. In Forcena, earthquakes were becoming more and more
frequent, and animals were crazed, attacking travelers. Sightings of the daemon
increased each day.
Richard sighed. Perhaps the cursed wolf was behind it all. He had heard other,
less sensible reasons as well, such as the wrath of the Goddess had descended,
or that it was all due to the proximity of the moon.
"Your Highness," one of the guards said, breaking him out of his thoughts.
Richard stopped pacing , and turned to face the Knight.
"Yes?" he said.
The Knight bowed. "A soldier from Altena wishes to speak to you. She looks
as if she just walked out of battle, sir."
Richard sat back down on his throne quickly. "Let her in."
"Yes, sir." The Knight stood and ordered the guards by the great double-door
of the chamber to let her in to see the King.
The doors swung open, and in the doorway was an Altenian soldier-witch, leaning
heavily on a staff. Her leg and chest were bound in dirty, bloodstained cloth
and splinted hastily with gnarled branches, and her long hair was a filthy mess
of dried blood, mud, and leaves. She could barely walk, and hissed with pain
when she moved.
Richard stood. "Good Goddess! She should see a healer, now."
"We tried, but she insisted to see you first." The Knight said apologetically,
as Richard sat. The witch made her way slowly towards the throne, then dropped
to her knees in front of it. She was still leaning on the staff. Her breath
was ragged and pained.
"Your Highness, I am Mica, from Altena."
"I know this." Richard said.
"I was one of a squad sent . . . by Queen Valda . . . to stop Angela. She
was running from Altena . . . we think she was coming here." Mica stopped,
her hand clenched around the splintered staff.
Richard wondered vaguely how much more she could say before she fainted. He
hoped it wasn't much, because then he could send her off to the healers . .
. .
"We thought we saw her, but . . . ." Mica choked and coughed, then
hung onto her staff for a moment, face white with agony, swaying a bit with
exhaustion "The . . . wolf . . . . attacked us . . . I was lucky . . .
just tossed aside . . . Send a message to Queen Valda . . . tell her that we
died honorably . . . . and . . ." Mica finally collapsed, still clutching
the staff. She was still breathing, and the red stains on her makeshift bandages
were still spreading slowly.
"Get her to the healers, quickly!" the Knight ordered, and then walked
out of the room, the guards carrying Mica following him.
