Heirs of the Enemy (27 page)

“They are not harming her,” Tanya said softly. “They are here to comfort her.”

“Comfort her?” asked General Gregor.

“Look at them,” answered the queen. “They are nuzzling her and trying to get close to her body. I have never seen anything like it. She must be talking to them in her sleep.”

Suddenly, Niki screamed and bolted upright in her bed. The rats leaped from the bed and surged out the door of the room. The queen held her ground as thousands of rats scrambled to flee. Most of the rats flowed around the feet of the people in the corridor, but others had no room to maneuver. Tanya felt their tiny claws shredding her boots as they frantically sought to get away from the room. In moments the rats were gone. The queen quickly moved into Niki’s chamber and put her arms around the young widow.

“It was just a dream,” the queen said soothingly. “Just a dream.”

“Fredrik fell off the mountain,” bawled Niki. “He fell and I couldn’t save him.”

“You are probably remembering that day on Mount Kalas,” stated the king. “The day Sarac died.”

Niki broke Tanya’s embrace at the sound of the king’s voice. She turned towards the king with hope in her eyes. “Is Zalaharic here yet?”

“Zalaharic is here,” the queen replied softly. “There is nothing he can do for Fredrik. He cannot bring the dead back to life, Niki.”

King Arik expected Niki to start crying again, but she did not cry. She merely stared at the floor and nodded in acceptance.

“I would like to be alone now,” Niki said softly.

* * * *

Jenneva and Governor Fernandez stood on a hill overlooking the coastal city of Darcia in Cordonia. They gazed down on the small city and the endless sea beyond it.

“This is the westernmost city in Cordonia,” the governor commented. “I have been to Darcia many times, but it has been ages since I climbed these hills. I had forgotten how beautiful it all seems from up here.”

“It is beautiful,” Jenneva agreed distractedly as she studied the city below.

“You haven’t said what it is that you are looking for. What can you see from up here that you cannot see from within the city itself?”

“I will want to visit the city as well,” answered Jenneva, “but I wanted to get a larger view of the extent of Darcia first. Is that the inn?” she asked as she pointed to a large building at the north edge of the city.

“That is it.” The governor nodded. “You have something up your sleeve. Why won’t you tell me what it is? Perhaps I can help you in some way.”

“You always were a curious one,” chuckled Jenneva as she turned to face the governor she had known for many years. “The problem is, I am not sure how much of my plan I want to reveal right now. If the Federation even got an inkling of what I have in mind, all of our spying will have been for naught.”

“If there is one thing I will be remembered for, Jenneva, it is that I can keep a secret. I was the Cordonian spymaster for longer than I care to remember. I never once revealed anything I didn’t intend to reveal.”

Jenneva looked at her old friend and smiled as she nodded. “I have the greatest trust in you, Julio. I am sure that you know that, but the ability of demonkin to steal people’s thoughts worries me.”

The governor frowned, but he also nodded in understanding. The trust bond he had developed with both Torks was as strong as any he had ever held. He knew that Jenneva would do nothing to hurt the Cordonians, but his curiosity was intense. He could not help pursuing the matter.

“Does it involve magic?”

Jenneva laughed. “You are incorrigible, Julio.”

Governor Fernandez grinned and shrugged his shoulders innocently.

“Alright, Julio,” Jenneva relented, “I will explain part of what I am trying to do. Perhaps you will have some insight into it. I want to recreate Darcia in another place.”

“You mean an illusion?”

“In a sense I guess it would be an illusion, but not a magical one. I want to actually build another city just like Darcia, or at least enough of the city to fool the Zarans when they come through the Door.”

“I think I am beginning to understand why you wanted to come here as well as go to the city, but are you aware of the enormity of the task you have set for yourself?”

“It is more than you think,” replied Jenneva. “I also want to recreate Paso and Carid.”

“Merciful Sword! Such a task would take years to accomplish. Can’t you use a magical illusion instead?”

“Possibly,” frowned Jenneva, “but the Zaran armies will have mages with them. If they were the first to come through the Doors, and if they detected the illusions, my whole plan would be destroyed. I cannot take that chance.”

“So you will actually attempt to build three cities instead? I am sorry, Jenneva, but your plan is not feasible in the time allotted.”

“I do not have to recreate every little bit of the cities,” retorted Jenneva. “For instance, I will not have to worry about the interiors of the buildings because the Zarans will never see them. I only need facades. In Paso, one Door opens on the other side of the river, and the second is in a barn not in sight of the city. That should make that task much easier than here.”

“The Doors in Carid are in a barn and a temple,” mused the governor. “Only the temple is within view of the city, and that is only true if someone were to go upstairs in the temple and look towards the city. Alright, I can buy into those two cities, but Darcia is another matter entirely. Even though the inn is at the outskirts of the city, the buildings would have to be real enough, and that means a great deal of work. I still don’t see it as feasible.”

“I will have thousands of Sordoan workers,” replied Jenneva. “If needed, we will post signs in Darcia as well to lure workers out of here. I think it can be done.”

“Not in two months.” The governor shook his head emphatically. “It is impossible no matter how many workers you have.”

“King Arik is trying to buy us some more time,” stated Jenneva.

“And what if he is unsuccessful?”

“Then what have we lost? All I am doing is transporting people who would be in harm’s way if the war came sooner. Saving their lives is enough of a reward to justify the cost of trying to complete my task.”

“And what is the benefit if you are successful?”

“Sixty-thousand Zarans need not die,” answered Jenneva, “and Cordonia will not be attacked.”

“Not attacked? At all?”

“Correct,” smiled Jenneva.

A fairy shot down out of the sky and landed on Jenneva’s shoulder. Jenneva turned her head and smiled at the little woman.

“Bitsy!”

“You have been hard to find,” the fairy complained with a tiny scowl upon her face. “Cordonia is a big place.”

“I am sorry,” giggled Jenneva. “Do you bring news from Alex?”

“No,” the fairy replied, all traces of her discontent instantly gone from her face. “I am the bearer of sad tidings. Fredrik has died.”

Jenneva’s mouth fell open, but no words came forth. Her eyes blurred as she stared right through the fairy.

“How did it happen?” asked Governor Fernandez.

“An attack was made on the Bringer,” answered Bitsy. “Fredrik and Niki were thrown off the carriage.”

“And King Arik?” the governor asked anxiously.

“The Bringer and his bride are unharmed.”

“I must return to Tagaret,” Jenneva announced as she snapped out of her trance. “We will discuss this later, Julio.”

* * * *

Atule pushed the curtains aside and stormed into the back of the healing shop set up in the Farmin slums. Eulena turned at the sound of the curtains and watched as Atule roughly shoved the curtains back in place.

“That woman will drive me insane,” scowled Atule. “What have I ever done to her that she can treat me this way?”

Eulena raised an eyebrow at the wizard of the jungle. “Crystil?”

“Who else would be constantly taunting me as if I had chosen myself to be emperor of the world? What right does she have to judge me?”

“I have never seen her act this way towards anyone,” frowned Eulena. “Crystil is normally very quiet. She seldom speaks unless she has something to offer.”

“Well, she certainly doesn’t spare her tongue on me. I have taken all the snide remarks that I care to take. If she doesn’t like the way I dress or the way I walk, she can take it up with someone else because I will not go anywhere near her any more. I have had enough.”

“What was she on about today?”

“She was mocking my bald head, as if her aged strands were anything to look at. She actually had the nerve to chastise me for not taking care of my hair when I was younger. As if that would have affected my baldness. What rubbish. I could easily have hair if I wanted.”

Eulena tried to hide her smile, but she had to turn her back to Atule instead. Just then the rear door to the shop opened and Bacar stepped in. Eulena smiled at the warrior thief.

“Word is spreading all over the city,” Bacar announced. “By this time tomorrow, everyone will know about the new healing shop in Farmin.”

“That is quick work,” commented the elven healer. “How are you spreading the word?”

“We have hundreds of people out and about,” answered Bacar. “What is the old woman doing with those pillars?”

“Crystil?” asked Eulena. “She is probably setting up a ward of protection. I suspect she intends to keep vermin away from the shop.”

“By erecting pillars?” balked the thief. “I can’t believe that would work.”

“It worked well enough in Smirka,” replied Eulena. “There her pillars also kept out unwanted people. She knows what she is doing.”

Bacar nodded and reached for the door to leave. “I just wanted you to know about our spreading the word. Expect the customers to start coming in the morning.”

“Thank you, Bacar,” smiled Eulena as the thief left the room.

Eulena turned back to Atule and found him staring at the floor with his mouth hanging open. He moved slowly towards a chair and slumped into it. Eulena rushed towards him to check his heart, but the wizard waved her away.

“Are you ill?” asked Eulena. “Do you feel all right?”

“Crystil of Smirka,” Atule said in a whisper. “I cannot believe it.”

“What can’t you believe?” asked the elf. “Have you heard of her before?”

“Heard of her?” echoed Atule. “I loved her. No wonder she belittles me.”

“You loved her?” asked Eulena.

Atule sighed heavily and nodded. “We were betrothed a long, long time ago.”

“Betrothed?” echoed Eulena. “And you do not even remember her?”

“It was hundreds of years ago,” scowled Atule, “and she doesn’t look anything like the Crystil I knew. My Crystil was the most beautiful woman to ever walk among the living. How could I possibly equate that old hag outside to my Crystil?”

“What happened?” asked Eulena.

“It is a long story,” sighed Atule. “We were madly in love, but we were both stubborn as rocks. I wanted to travel the world; she wanted to settle down and raise a family. I wanted to reach for the stars; she wanted to dig in the soil. As much as we loved one another, we discovered that we could not live with one another. The relationship turned stormy as we each tried to persuade the other to see the light. Eventually, we drifted apart. That was ages ago.”

“She still remembers you,” smiled Eulena as she saw Crystil quietly enter the room by sliding apart the curtains behind Atule.

“And she is angry that I do not remember her.” Atule nodded in understanding. “I cannot blame her for that, no matter how many years it has been. I wonder if she ever raised a family?”

“And how could I have raised a family when my husband never returned to me?” Crystil asked bitterly.

Atule whirled around in his chair and stared at the old hag. “Husband?” he bellowed. “We were never married.”

“A technicality,” scowled Crystil. “I once told you that I would never love another. Unlike some of us, I mean what I say.”

“That is unfair. I truly did love you, but you were obstinate. It had to be your way or no way at all. What was I supposed to do?”

“Obviously, you were supposed to build yourself an ivory tower in the midst of the jungle and surround yourself with thousands of young women. Have you told each of them that you love them as well?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I do not have time to associate with the Rhodans. I have allowed them sanctuary within my jungle. That is all. And what if I have loved others? What of it? We had our opportunity long ago.”

“An opportunity that you walked away from,” retorted Crystil. “You abandoned me, Atule. Do you expect me to ever forget that?”

“Yes, I do. That was hundreds of years ago. Forget it! We were different people back then. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, but look at you now? You are as ugly now as you were beautiful then.”

Crystil’s eyes narrowed in anger as she glared at Atule. With a snap of her fingers the old hag’s form shimmered and disappeared. In its place a beautiful woman appeared. Gone was the stringy hair, the hunched back, and the warts on her face. Crystil stood straight and tall, long black hair flowing down her back. Her skin was smooth and velvety, no longer wrinkled and parched by years under the sun. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and a perfect nose perched over a sensuous smile. Atule’s eyes grew large as he stared at his former lover. His mouth fell open, but he was speechless. He reached out with a hand to touch Crystil’s arm, but she backed away. With another snap of her fingers, the visage of the youthful Crystil disappeared. The old hag returned.

“Beauty is not merely for your eyes, Atule. The true beauty of a person resides deep within. You try to impress others with your wealthy attire and your snobbish demeanor, but you really don’t fool anyone at all. At least not for long. As soon as they get to know you, the truth reveals itself.”

“Beauty is something to be shared with others. Why do you hide your beauty under this abomination?”

“My people love me for who I am, not who I appear to be. You would not understand.”

Crystil turned and left the room. Atule stared at the moving curtains until they stopped swaying. He turned to Eulena and shook his head.

“I didn’t understand her then, and I don’t understand her now. Why does she hide such beauty?”