OCTT : A TALE OF TWO QUEENS : SUMME - CHAPTER TWO : MAETHILDA (DRAFT)

Chapter Two

Maethilda

The Maid’s Hand was bustling with over-zealous soldiers and young maids, many sitting upon the laps of their drunken customers. With relative comfort, the local customers had gathered in from the torrential rain outside, spurred on by the unchecked moods which often dictated the Auta months. The air was tight and stringent with the rough smell of thinly brewed laman and the tables were swollen with rowdy friends, angered farmers and those of the elder generation who sat closely huddled together, their conversations focused on the current events and oncoming war. Close to the bar, old Barrin Mewley played on his fiddle whilst singing the aggrieved song of Buana the Fair, who was ruthlessly cut down by the jealous moon who envied her locks of hair which had been sewn from the sun’s rays. A few lonesome characters sat upon their round stools watching on, many with tear stained eyes. Sitting under a large round window and about a small round table that was dotted with empty wooden goblets and a small lantern sat Maethilda and her friends, all of them wearing expressions of unease and discomfort. As usual, Maethilda wore her usual attire of black boots, leather pants, a black and green tunic and a silver belt about her waist. Her crop of flaxen blonde hair was slowly beginning to grow back, having been cut off in a dramatic attempt at disguising herself throughout the Splelin Games in which she and her pickets had to abandon with haste in order to rescue Celestine. The new cut had as her dear friend Evalean commented on several occasions added a touch of mystery to her boyish look and she had to agree, she felt stronger and bolder with shorter hair, and even believed that the male soldiers with whom she was often mocked, seemed to have backed off from her and kept their teasing words firmly clipped behind their roguish tongues.

With large buds of angry rain hitting the glass window with defiance and the small tavern filled with an assemble of varying sounds, ranging from drunken brawls to the soft lamenting of Barrin on his fiddle, Maethilda looked about the sombre faces of her friends, Aabe the young wizard and son of Anvin, Evalean, the gentle and ethereal friend and sister to Morad and Celestine, their new and mysterious friend who had unwillingly killed her husband in a bloody fight upon the beaches of Eel Cove. Their conversation had been trying and etched with frustration as the order to make for Frye island to find an elixir for Celestine bore consequences for all those sitting around the table and their previous plans. In but twelve hours’ time the great funeral of Theodore would take place under the rays of the dimming sun and full moon. It would be most likely the last great cultural occasion witnessed by the people of Summe, whereby they could let loose their fears of the future and embrace their ancient heritage in a montage of music, dance and merry making. It would be a night to remember for all those in attendance, by which the ancient spirits of the island would roam free under the gaze of the moon in an ancient dance between the living and the dead. For Maethilda, the funeral procession, service and celebrations could only darken her heart and mind, for she knew that as the sun arose of the Sumerian hills that the fate of her adopted people would greatly alter and change. It burdened her so to gaze over a future in which the magical people of Summe would diminish against the shadow of darkness which crept ever southward, its eyes without mercy and its shade without warmth.

Tracing the tip of her index finger around the rim of her goblet, she spotted the familiar faces of her friends and co-pickets, Sabia, Innis and Mairina. Dressed in a similar fashion and little intoxicated, they were arguing with a group of young male soldiers, their cheeks flushed with frustration and their eyes sparkling with defiance. Catching the gaze of Sabia, Maethilda rolled her eyes and heard her friends loud peel of laughter cross the loud tavern. She was a little wary of her picket’s behaviour, as a pattern of intense brawling seemed to ensue after almost every venture to any tavern within the city, and there was the sacramental story of The Dier’s Head burning down due to such a quarrel. Not really in the mood for another tavern being burnt to the ground, Maethilda lifted a hand and motioned for the women to settle down, their tempers brewing and warming extensively. Tearing her eyes away from her friends, Maethilda allowed her gaze to fall upon the sullen Celestine, who sat with her head in her hands.

“Surely there must be another way?” Evalean asked Aabe, with optimistic eyes. She was fair, ethereal and sweet natured, everything that Maethilda detested in herself, yet adored in her best friend. “Sailing to Frye is surely a suicide mission?”

“My father would not have proposed such a mission if he had little faith in us reaching the island and returning with the elixir,” Aabe returned with a groan, his sharp eyes soothing a little under Evalean’s gentle gaze. She, unlike Maethilda and Celestine wore a fine gown of emerald green, and despite her short dark locks, wore a crown of wild flowers about her head. Maethilda found it impossible to look upon her without feeling the familiar pangs of heartache at Morad’s absence. Since their night of love making, she had fallen into a state of bitterness and contempt, his departure so brutal and without care, as though that night was nothing of significance, at least on his part. But that was the nature of Morad, he was distant, frustrated and easy to anger. He wanted to lift himself from the grounds of misery and poverty and elevate himself upon the higher ground of honour, power and position. His vision of a better life had never gone un-noticed by his sister and friends and had often cropped up within heated debates, but never had she witnessed such a change in his countenance as she had this past year. His disgust and hatred towards his past and the roots which bound him to this world, had deepened and his boiling envy at having been born without magic, position or purpose had dented his world view and only threatened to make him colder and even more rigid, despite being brought up within the court of Anvin and having been greatly loved by the High Priests family, especially Adadine, Aabe’s sister. Both Morad and Adadine had shared a secret love for one another, a deep-seated care for each other that by-passed his care towards herself. The death of Adadine had wounded Morad, and despite her instant grief, pacified her jealousy, at least for a while. Now, Morad was greatly admired by the young soldiers and being both, handsome and strong, he was sought after by many a woman and had lain with a great deal of admirers. He wasn’t the young and adventurous soul which she had grown up with, now he was greatly revered among his men and with such power, his view of Maethilda had thinned. She had thought that night would have changed her friends view of her, but his departure had brought with it a terrible realisation that perhaps she had placed Morad upon a pedestal too grand and glorious. Perhaps there was no changing a man who was seeped in a deep hatred for the life into which he had been born, a deep and envious hatred at her own position, being the only daughter and rightful heir to Taer.

Feeling Aabe’s ever inquisitive gaze upon her, Maethilda looked away from her goblet and merely smiled in awkward kindness, ever aware of the risk all of them were currently undertaking. She knew that in time she would find her purpose and path, and indeed was keenly aware that to re-claim her purpose she had to place a great deal of trust in her knew ally, who if truth be known, was tangibly cynical and fraught with disbelief.

“How long would it take for us to reach the island?” Celestine asked quietly as she played with her empty goblet, her golden eyes dark and without shine. Despite having her head covered by the hood of her dark cloak, the eyes of the soldiers wandered over to their table, their curiosity and keen suspicion of the young Queen electrifying the air. They had known one another but a few days and yet to Maethilda at least, it had felt as though Celestine had always been a part of their small group, even if the young woman felt isolated and alone.

“It is a three-day ride to the city of Ashlois,” Aabe returned in kindness, his blue eyes settling upon Celestine in brotherly affection. Each of them were in some way or another bound to one another and this sense of kinship had only tightened the bonds between them. However, the bond between the young wizard and Celestine was somehow different – it being infused with a hidden secret which lay between only them. “My father has instructed us to leave by mid-day tomorrow, believing the island will soon fall prey to Ethla and Beon’s men.”

“We cannot simply leave our people here without aid,” Maethilda groaned with desperation as she mercilessly grabbed her goblet and moved it about the surface of the wooden table in anger. “Our defences are not strong enough to withhold an army, especially an army under the command of a black witch and her immortal dragon. Summe needs us,” Maethilda argued as she leaned in. Lowering her voice, ever aware of their neighbouring tables, she considered the sombre eyes of Aabe. “We cannot leave them un-aided. That was not the oath in which myself and my pickets took. We swore to protect our people even unto death.” Silence fell over the group as Maethilda’s words touched a chord. “Anyway, how can we hope to destroy a dragon who has been raised from the dead?”

“Our mission is to protect Celestine,” Aabe said with feeling, seeing the anger in his young friend’s eyes. “I understand your argument Maettie, but you know the roles in which we must play. Our task is to bring Celestine to the Garden of Kings, only then can those of the dead be destroyed. The magic of my people is no enough anymore,” Aabe said with emotion, his words breaking under the realisation that his own powers were useless against those of Ethla and her beast. “We have highly trained soldiers who will protect our island.”

“She has come looking for Celestine Maettie,” Evalean interceded as she placed a warm hand upon her friends. “We cannot allow Ethla to take our only weapon, we must follow Anvin’s orders.”

“And what of Morad?” Maethilda whispered, her words heralding her to fix her gaze upon the slated floor beneath. She could feel Aabe’s knowing eyes upon her in judgement and those of Evalean’s, but it was Celestine’s gaze which nurtured her wounded heart.

“He is Anvin’s commander of men, his place will be here among the people,” Aabe answered plainly. “He will not be following us Maethilda.”

“So, we are to leave him behind?” Evalean asked through trembling lips. “Our friend and my brother?”

The table became quiet as Evalean’s gentle face fell into dismay and shock. Maethilda found Aabe’s gaze and sent him a dark look of determined insolence. Aabe turned to Evalean and clasped both of her hands within his own. It was to both Maethilda and Celestine a moment of tenderness and bittersweet pain, as they beheld the often quiet and unchecked love between the shy wizard and his gentle Evalean, who looked upon him with a gaze of besotted ignorance, a look which troubled Maethilda, for she had worked long and hard upon moulding Evalean’s independent nature, in the hope that she would somehow become ever more reliant upon her own mind.

“Evalean, it is his duty to stay behind and lead our soldiers into battle,” Aabe explained softly, a tear shedding from Evalean’s eye at his words. “It is a duty of which he chooses to embrace. When the war is over, he can follow us.”

“How will he know where to find us?” Evalean asked sheepishly, her dark eyes illuminated by the dying flame of the candle which lay rigid within the golden lantern. Maethilda’s ears piqued at her friend’s question, a question she had urgently wished to ask but felt compelled by pride and slight shame to keep oppressed.

“I shall send word to my father of our whereabouts,” Aabe lied, his eyes quickly darting to Evalean’s hands in haste, so that his guilty look could not be seen. As Aabe tried to calm a nervous Evalean, Maethilda caught sight of a man huddled into the far corner, his face covered by the shadow of his dark hood. Not far from him, her pickets were falling into an unholy brawl with their male friends.

“Aabe!” Maethilda whispered quickly, her heart uneasy by the man’s cool and collective pose, his dark eyes upon their table. Still in deep conversation with Evalean, Maethilda lightly tapped on the young wizard’s arm. “Aabe!” she whispered with urgency. Her words going un-noticed, Maethilda swiftly kicked her friend under the table and heard him yelp in agony, his blue eyes turning to her own.

“My God Maettie, what was that for!”

“There is a man watching us,” Maethilda whispered darkly, aware that Celestine’s darkened eyes suddenly came to life. In fact, an extraordinary thing suddenly happened. Celestine pressed both of her hands down upon the table firmly, and bent her head slightly, her eyelids flickering up and down at a rapid pace. Aabe turned to Celestine and with speed took to his feet and pounced before the young Queen, his arms outstretched. At once the light in the tavern and the merry voices came to an abrupt halt. Barrin’s fiddle fell to the ground and his singing waded into the dark air. Maethilda slowly took to her feet, her eyes on the strange Celestine who looked as though she was about to convulse violently. Across the tavern, soldiers withdrew their swords and the pickets took to their feet, unleashing their own blades. The stranger unleashed his long arms and outstretched them, the flaps of his dark cloak dancing behind his tall form elegantly as he spoke darkly in the Sumerian language, which was a derivative of Meerin.

“Sia der eught! (Speak your name!)” Aabe said aloud as Celestine’s head fell hard onto the table, her whole body shaking with terror. Maethilda ran to her friend’s side and placed a protective arm across her arm. She felt Celestine’s healing body shake roughly beneath her touch and looked to Evalean, who sat upon the opposite side of Celestine, her eyes speckled with fear. Looking over her shoulders she saw the strange man take two strides forward, a spark of red sprouting from his eyes like fire.

“Ga spiri tuu at, esaurd! (Give her to me, wizard!)” the man said aloud, his voice dark and resounding, the words from his mouth shaking the very foundation of the small building. Instead of rushing forward to aid the young wizard against the enemy, the soldiers drew back into the comforts of the wall, their lips trembling and their eyes blinking heavily, any trace of bravery vanishing. Turning her attention to Celestine, Maethilda shook her gently.

“Celestine, can you hear me?” Maethilda whispered hurriedly into Celestine’s ear, her hood falling over her head. Evalean shook her head, her eyes large and her pupils dilated. “We need to get her out of here now!”

“Yes, yes quick we can use the back door,” Evalean said quickly. Behind them, Maethilda could hear the dark enchantments being cast across the tavern as Aabe and the assassin became violently intertwined in a battle of magic. Looking up at the powerful Aabe, Maethilda nodded in Evalean’s direction and together they lifted Celestine up onto her feet, her body shaking violently. Bringing their arms under her own, they forcefully dragged her towards the bar. Spotting Halan the owner, Maethilda caught his terrified gaze.

“Open the latch Halan!” she ordered loudly as those within the tavern started to make a run for it, stools and chairs being cast aside in desperation as they darted towards the door, everyone leaving but for the loyal pickets who stayed behind, their eyes upon the departing Maethilda, Celestine and Evalean. Catching Sabia’s gaze, Maethilda watched the young picket unleash her sword and jump towards the man, who in the blink of an eye brought forth a sword of fire and struck her fiercely, the blade of fire running straight through her body. Maethilda caught a glimpse of her friend as she fell unceremoniously to the ground with a loud crash as she fell over a wooden table. Halan opened the back door quickly, the heavy rain thundering down over Summe with vengeance. As the friends dragged the unreceptive Celestine through a back street, their feet covered in a dark mud, Celestine’s body instantly stopped shaking and straightened. Maethilda looked to a stunned Evalean as they both dropped their arms from the quiet Celestine, whose eyes turned a sudden shade lighter.

“Aabe…” she whispered under her breath as Maethilda and Evalean turned to her with surprise.

“You are in danger Celestine, we must return to the palace now!” Maethilda declared with need, the heavy buds of raining casting their cold water over her shaved head, the buds running down her face and neck.

“No!” Celestine returned with ardent desperation as she flung back her hood and revealed herself in a moment of glory. Maethilda felt her power radiate from her as she turned about abruptly and ran back into the tavern.

“Maettie what are we to do?” Evalean cried out as she unleashed her sword from its sheath. Maethilda watched the hem of Celestine’s cloak disappear through the tavern and shook her head in disbelief. Feeling the pain of Sabia’s unexpected death hit her hard in the abdomen, Maethilda let out a low growl and brought forth her own sword ‘Fire’. Blinking through the heavy rain, she lifted her green gaze to Evalean.

“Go to Anvin at once and warn him!” Maethilda commanded Evalean harshly as she took a step forward and found her friend’s small hands. “Go now Evalean, the city has been infiltrated by enemies, we must act accordingly.”

“But Aabe!” Evalean cried out with a whimper.

“Aabe is a wizard Evie, you need not worry! Now go!” Maethilda commanded as she turned upon her heel and ran back into the tavern. Coming to the bar, she knelt down, the voices of Aabe, Celestine and the stranger vibrating around the tavern coldly. Lifting her eyes over the top of the wooden bar, she caught sight of Celestine, standing before Aabe. She looked formidable and her power and sheer presence weakened the presence and power of Aabe.

“Celestine flee! You cannot use your powers!” Aabe cried out as Celestine reached out her right hand, her eyes coming alive with an unchartered spirit. She stood tall, her auburn hair falling loosely over her back. Before her the tall man stood with his right hand outstretched before her, a sly smile upon his lips. Maethilda saw the dead figure of Sabia upon the ground and bite down low upon her bottom lip. It seemed that there was no other choice set before her, she knew that Celestine had been forbidden to use her magic, and realised that Aabe’s own power seemed decreasingly useful and so she had but one route, she had to kill the man before Celestine used her powers and ultimately killed herself. Slipping down onto the ground once more, she crawled her way along the floor until she reached the other end of the bar, her body directly in line with the assassin’s. A terrifying white light broke out as the invader cast a ball of white fire at Celestine, who quickly moved out of the way. In return, Aabe murmured a counter spell under his breath and suddenly at once, the lone knives upon the wooden tables arose into the air, their pointed ends turning in the direction of the man, whose own dark hood now fell away from his face. He was older than Aabe, and had a painted star upon his forehead. Maethilda’s brows fell into a crease as she looked upon the man, who bore no specific colours in which to indicate his clan, only painted stars and spots upon his face and neck. It was she knew, common for those who were traditionally apart of the darker circles of magic upon the island to bare such markings, but what she asked herself, was his mission this day? Why was he in want of Celestine?

Although such a question seemed ridiculous, considering the worth of such a person as Celestine, Maethilda could not understand why the dark keisha would try to kill her. A little perplexed by the situation, Maethilda continued to crawl until she came to the latch. Her sword unleashed, she slowly opened the wooden latch of the bar and slipped through quietly. She caught sight of the warring trio, a clash of magnificent colours unfurling from their fingertips. Crawling across the cold surface she spotted the dead Sabia, whose eyes were open and tainted with a petrified fear. Grasping a hold of her sword, she caught Aabe’s gaze and merely brought an index finger to her lips, commanding him to act in ignorance of her presence. Celestine was trying but failing to defeat her enemy, and instead fell to the ground in submission of his dark magic. As Aabe cried out once more a hymn of magic retort, Maethilda had crawled close enough to the enemy as to find her feet and quickly pierce him with her blade.

“Maethilda no!” Aabe exclaimed as the man fell to his knees in pain, a silvery blood rushing from his wound. Maethilda watched as the silvery liquid spilled upon his dark cloak, her blade falling to the floor with a resounding sound which echoed throughout the tavern. Lifting her gaze to a pain stricken Aabe, who dashed to Celestine’s side, she felt confused by her friends’ exclamation.

“He was going to kill you both?” she said meekly as the man let out one last cry and fell upon his side, his body withering into an unsightly state of agony, a pool of silver blood surrounding him.

“What have you done?” Aabe said aloud as he lifted a lifeless Celestine into his arms.

“What I should have done!” Maethilda returned in confusion as she strode over to the lifeless form of Sabia. “He killed my friend!”

“He is a keisha Maettie! To kill a member of the Keisha is to sign your own death warrant!” Aabe cried out with rage. Maethilda watched the young wizard lay Celestine down upon a nearby table. “My friend, you have put yourself into an unmovable position.”

“I don’t understand?” Maethilda said weakly as she cradled her friend in her arms, a terrible realisation washing over her. “What do you mean, I have signed my own death warrant?.” As she cradled her friend, Aabe came to her side and knelt before her, his eyes scanning her confused face.

“The Keisha can access each other’s thoughts,” Aabe explained with kindness. “They will have known that you struck this man and killed him, although I believe their motive was to have Celestine kill him instead.”

“You mean this was a suicide mission?” Maethilda said with a shake of fear. She looked over at the withering corpse, which strangely enough seemed to be decomposing right before her at such a speed, she felt a little nauseous. Her nose screwed up and her eyes squinted, she looked to Aabe. “Is that normal?”

“The keisha are not made from human blood and skin, they are river dwellers and are sown from the skin and blood of their ancestors who once lived beneath the waters,” Aabe explained as he watched the assassins body disappear before his eyes. “It is a terrible crime to kill one of the Keisha.”

“But why did they send one of their own here to kill Celestine?” Maethilda quizzed her friend as Celestine awoke from her unconscious state. Maethilda observed Celestine as she lifted herself to her feet and rubbed her eyes as though exhausted.

“I do not know,” Aabe answered seriously, his brows furrowed with thought.

“What was that?” she asked aloud, her feet slamming down upon the ground. Maethilda watched Celestine as she drew back the sleeve of her arm and looked down upon her black veins. It was it had to be noted, an unsightly scene to take in. Maethilda watched the young woman throw down the sleeve with displeasure, her cheeks pale and his lips without colour. Clearly the magic of the Keisha assassin had wounded her, for she looked weak upon her feet and her body swayed slightly.

“That was an ancient being,” Aabe explained to Celestine, he now also upon his feet. “He comes from a tribe called the Keisha, who live upon the lake of Saios. They are of the water and do not look upon those of Summe with pleasure, believing our kind to have massacred their own.”

“And did you?” Celestine asked bluntly as she looked down over the fading man, her golden eyes alert and pensive.

“The stories are marred by various accounts, no one will ever truly know,” Aabe answered with a shrug. With a groan the young wizard walked over to Celestine, his eyes hard. “I told you not to use magic and you disobeyed, father will not be pleased.”

“I couldn’t very well allow that man to kill my friends, could I?” Celestine returned with raised brows, her arms crossed beneath her. “Although the colour of his magic was unlike any I have thus felt, it nearly suffocated me.”

“The Keisha are a very powerful people,” Aabe said with a sigh as he walked about the corpse of the man, his eyes keen and curious, having never been so close to such a creature. “But this night, an ancient oath between our own kind and theirs has been broken and I am afraid the consequences will be significant, if the tales of Gulda are to be taken literally.”

“What do you mean?” Celestine returned quietly, her eyes catching sight of the sombre look upon Maethilda’s tired face.

“A life for a life,” Aabe said seriously as he turned to look down upon Maethilda. “We must flee this island before they find you Maethilda. I believe their mission was to have you kill this man,” Aabe said to a silent Celestine. “For what end I do not know, but they will be greatly displeased that your hand did not fell this man. We must be rationale and expect for them to attack again.”

The friends looked upon one another with misery and dismay, such was the impact of Aabe’s words.

“But we cannot flee!” Maethilda said with heated feeling. “I shall not run from my enemies.”

“I am afraid that you have no choice before you now, you must do as I say,” Aabe ordered with a bittersweet note to his words. “Maethilda I beg of you to listen to my council. You do not have the power to out-wit the Keisha, none of us do. They bare a terrible dark magic.”

“But you are a wizard! Surely that has to mean something?” Celestine quizzed Aabe as she made her way about him and came to stand beside a shocked Maethilda. She looked down into the petrified face of the young woman and felt pity, she was as Maethilda put it upon their first meeting, feisty and strong, yet such qualities were now fraught with impending disaster. Aabe looked at Celestine with a look so forlorn she felt guilty for asking him such an obvious question.

“It is never as easy as just being a wizard my lady,” Aabe replied with caution and grace. “I would have thought that you most of all would understand the predicament I find myself in. The priests of Summe do not undertake the ancient dark magic with which the Keisha use. They are such a secretive tribe and we have such little literature about their workings, that my magic is futile against their own.”

Before Maethilda could intervene, the doors of the tavern flew open and in swept Anvin, followed by a nervous Evalean, who, out of character rushed into Aabe’s arms for comfort. Maethilda caught Celestine’s surprised look and for the briefest of moments observed an intense pain pass over her pale face. Finding Anvin, Maethilda looked for comfort but found anger in his silvery-blue eyes. The tavern fell into an uncomfortable silence as the doors were closed by an elegant sweep of Aabe’s hand.

“Father it was by accident, Maethilda was not to know that this man is a Keisha,” Aabe said with strength and courage as he delicately withdrew from Evalean and walked over to his silent father, who bent down low upon the ground, observing the shrivelled body of the assassin.

“The oath between our people and the Keisha has never been broken, not in twenty-six moons,” Anvin said with a cool expression. Maethilda caught his disappointed look and felt as though she had been whipped. “Now, we do not only face war from the Galgorian army, but from our longest enemy, an enemy which can wield a terrible power. What have you done?”

“Had I known that he was of the Keisha tribe, then I would not have killed him,” Maethilda returned with defiance as she brought herself to her feet. “He killed Sabia and was about to kill Celestine!”

“I doubt that,” Anvin retorted under his breath, his gaze travelling to Celestine, who now stood before one of the small glass windows, her eyes seeping out into the stormy night. “This man came with intent of being killed, not of killing.”

“What is to be done father?” Aabe asked, his gaze bouncing from Maethilda to Celestine. Maethilda watched as Celestine turned about in silence. Anvin stood up straight before them and allowed his gaze to roam over each of them, Innis and Mairina quietly placing a clock over the corpse of Sabia, their cheeks stained with silent tears.

“You must travel to Saios and meet with the Keisha and find out their motives for such a blatant act of disregard,” Anvin said darkly as he placed a splayed hand over the disintegrated body below, a yellow mist of magic flowing over the scene and magically riding the floor of any evidence. “Either they need Celestine’s power or are actively working against us. Either way you cannot outrun the Keisha and therefore have no other choice. You must leave at mid-day tomorrow.”

“But father that would be a suicide mission,” Aabe hissed darkly as he came to stand before his father, who was a half a head taller than his son. “I am not versed in their magic and Celestine cannot use her own.”

“The fates have re-shaped your path Aabe,” Anvin said under his breath. “You must make for Saios and if need be, assert my authority.”

“You cannot mean what I think you mean?” Aabe whispered in return. Maethilda caught Anvin’s dark look and felt herself drain of any remaining warmth. He meant business, for only rarely did Anvin reveal his darker side.

“You must dispense of justice Aabe, that is the only way,” Anvin said clearly, his words running over all those who stood around him in agonising suspense. “The balance of power is shifting and with it the future of our people. We cannot turn a blind eye to the breaking of an oath. Our justice system was long in the making and much blood was spent in order that it may remain at the core of our legal system. A great wrong has been done this night and the Keisha must face the consequences.” Turning his eyes to Celestine, Anvin held her distant gaze. “That is the role of the ruling leader and a burden all leaders must carry, whether they agree or not. We cannot be seen to be failing in the eyes of those who look to us for justice, peace and hope. The Keisha will not stop until they have Celestine, it is up to all of you here to put an end to their plan. Remember war is coming and you must find the elixir before Ethla sets her sights upon the fryrian people.”

“Why would she? Surely her gaze lies upon Summe?” Maethilda quizzed the wizard darkly as she moved to stand beside Celestine. “What would she want from the fryrian people?”

“An elixir from the tree of Summe would in the hands of the enemy be indispensable to their cause, for it can bring forth life from those who linger within the realm of the dead.”

“But she has brought Belnun back from the dead?” Aabe argued weakly.

“But can she bring herself back from the brink of death? With such an elixir in her possession, our need to be rid of her is more complicated, won’t you agree?”

Maethilda looked up into the shocked face of Celestine and knew instantly that the battle before them would be stringent with blood, injustice and an end to civility. They needed to find the elixir before the black witch, for without it they would must certainly loose the fight. Turning her gaze to Anvin, Maethilda simply nodded in agreement.

“Then you know what is to be done.”




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