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.