Sign of the Throne: Book One in the Solas Beir Trilogy (12 page)

“The Northern Oracle nodded. ‘Yes, I have seen this. You seek the Sign of the Throne.’

‘You have seen true,’ Cael said. ‘Our queen is in dire need of the Solas Beir’s sigil.’

‘I cannot help you,’ the Northern Oracle replied. ‘The sigil is not here. I am afraid your journey has been in vain.’

“Cael was distraught. Such a long and treacherous journey all for nothing. ‘If the Sign of the Throne is not with you, where can it be?’”

“It really wasn’t there?” Abby asked.

Eulalia rose from the garden stool and stretched as though she had been sitting too long. She walked over to the edge of the pool and stared into its murky depths. “No. Unfortunately, it was not. The Northern Oracle has always been our ally. I assumed, incorrectly, that she would be the keeper of the Sign of the Throne. She has been ever constant and true to the Light, but of course that was why she could not protect the sigil. Were Tierney to seek it, the house of the Northern Oracle would be the first place he would look—and indeed, that was the reason for the siege. His followers were determined to free him from the Wasteland. I am afraid that because of my assumption, I sent Cael to the wrong oracle. It appears that my husband kept secrets even from me.”

Abby stood up and stretched as well. “So all those men who were killed in the Gauntlet, didn’t have to die.”

Eulalia nodded. “You speak true.”

Abby sank down onto the garden stool, thinking about it. She looked up at Eulalia. “Then what happened?”

Eulalia began to pace along the pool’s edge. “After Cael learned that the Northern Oracle did not possess the Sign of the Throne, the Northern Oracle insisted that he and his soldiers stay until they had recovered enough for the long journey home. As it turned out, they had no choice—as they were healing, a storm rendered the canyon impassable, and they were forced to wait almost a year before the ice receded.

“Although frustrated by this turn of events, Cael and his men made the most of their time in the north. The Northern Oracle and her people prided themselves on self-reliance. They infused discipline and spirituality into every task, caring for domesticated deer, tending indoor gardens, and refining their skills as warriors while gaining edification from the ancient texts. The people of the north kept owls, which they used for hunting the small hares that inhabited the ridge, and in this practice, their spiritual connection with their birds of prey and the world around them was particularly salient.

“Cael was greatly humbled by his observations and found he had much to learn. When at long last the snow melted, he had become a stronger warrior and a more disciplined man.

“The Northern Oracle equipped Cael and his men with fresh horses and supplies. Most noteworthy was a small leather satchel filled with a combustible powder.

‘Keep it dry,’ she urged. ‘You will have need for it soon.’

“Cael pressed her for further explanation, but she simply shook her head, unwilling to share all she had foreseen. Instead, she instructed Cael to voyage west to the island of the Western Oracle.

“My husband had good reason for entrusting the Sign to the Western Oracle. She was loyal to no one, narcissistic, and absolutely lethal. Tierney would surely have met his match in seeking the Sign in her care. They made a secret arrangement, so secret that not even I was privy to it. Ardal himself consulted with the Oracle to seal the pact; this was his insurance to protect our people, should anything happen to him before our son Artan could take the throne. The Northern Oracle told Cael that he must take the diadem of the Solas Beir and present it to the Western Oracle. Only then would she relinquish the Sign of the Throne.

“Cael journeyed home as quickly as he could. He testified before the council that governed the kingdom in the absence of a Solas Beir, and they granted him use of the crown.

“He replenished his provisions and packed gifts of treasure to flatter the Western Oracle. The soldiers who had joined him in seeking the assistance of the Northern Oracle continued with him west. They sailed for many months to reach the island.

“One evening, at sunset, they heard singing. The song was so sweet that one of the men immediately dove overboard. Cael tried to stop him, but it was too late. All that was left of the man was blood in the water.

“The siren surfaced, a beautiful, sensuous woman, beckoning the men to join her. She wiped blood from her lips and resumed her song. As she sang, many of the men fell into a trance, captivated by her beauty and bewitched by her voice. Her song summoned dark clouds and below her, the sea boiled as something writhed beneath the waves.

“As lightning flashed across the sky, a scale-covered arm scooped a man from the deck and pulled him under the surface. A black-and-white striped tail smashed the mast with its paddled fin and sent the men scattering, knocking several overboard. All were gone in seconds.

“More sirens surfaced, beautiful from the waist up, lethal below, with a second pair of muscled, hungry arms stemming from their scaly, serpentine tails. Each arm was tipped with the head of a viper, a venomous sea krait. Clinging to the sides of the boat, the sirens began to rock the vessel violently, attempting to capsize it.

‘Join us,’
they hissed.

“Cael hung on with all his strength and shouted, ‘I seek the Western Oracle by order of the Solas Beir! You must grant us safe passage!’

“At this, the sea became calm, and the sirens ceased their rocking. Their strong arms guided the ship through the darkness until it bumped lightly on the shore of a tremendous island, a mountain looming ominously over the sea. Near the edge of the water was a marble temple.

“Cael and the few remaining soldiers disembarked, carrying a strongbox holding the crown and gifts for the Western Oracle. The sirens slithered up the sand, but kept their distance. Cautiously, Cael turned his back on them and walked forward, up stone steps into the towering edifice supported by marble pillars. A strange, sweet-smelling mist filled the air, and Cael remained on his guard, signaling the men to keep their swords ready.

‘Come forward, Cael,’ a musical voice called invitingly. ‘I have been waiting for you for such a long time.’

“The mist cleared slightly, and sitting on a carved marble throne was a beautiful woman with voluptuous curves, long, finely-turned legs, flowing tresses, full lips, and bewitching eyes. She was a goddess in a pure white silken robe that flowed around her perfect form, as though it too were made of mist. Hers was a form meant for seduction, and Cael found himself irresistibly drawn to her, letting down his guard.

“But my connection with him is powerful, and I sensed his will slipping away. ‘Cael,’ I called out in his mind. ‘Finish this and come home. I need you. We all do.’

“As if waking from a dream, he gathered his strength and his wit. ‘Western Oracle,’ he crooned, ‘I come in the name of the Solas Beir, who thanks you for your honorable service to our kingdom. You are as beautiful as you are kind and generous. Please, allow me to present you with gifts to demonstrate our gratitude.’ At this, he opened the strongbox, scooping up lengths of jeweled necklaces. Bowing nobly, he presented them to her.

“She took the gifts from him and smiled. ‘Thank you, Cael. They are lovely.’ She placed the necklaces around her neck and gazed down at him seductively. ‘I am pleased that you came to present them personally. I hope you will stay with me.’

“Cael returned her smile. ‘Your beauty does entice me, Oracle. It pains me to leave your presence, but I must return home.’

“The Western Oracle frowned, pouting. ‘But, my dear Cael, you must stay. I have waited only for you. And you have kept me waiting for so, so very long.’ Then, leaning forward as if he were her confidant, she whispered, ‘Have my daughters offended you in their welcome? I am certain they can make it up to your men.’ She beamed as the sirens slithered into the room, wrapping their lovely upper arms seductively around Cael’s soldiers. Cael’s men dropped their guard, entranced once again.

“Cael resisted her advances. ‘I am sure my soldiers would welcome such hospitality. Unfortunately, I come on a mission from my king, not of my own wishes. Were I here of my own accord, I would happily stay with you forever. The Solas Beir asked me to retrieve the Sign of the Throne. I have brought his diadem as a sign of goodwill and as
proof I come on his authority.’

“The Western Oracle looked scornful. ‘Ah, that,’ she spat.

“Cael held up the shining crown. It was a simple silver circlet, a perfect circle, void of decoration.

“The Western Oracle winced, as if it were physically painful to be so close to the object. Then, regaining her composure, she smiled graciously. ‘I see that you are true to your king, dear one. An admirable quality. How I wish you could stay with me and be so true.’ She sighed sadly. ‘I see I have no choice but to honor your request and let you return. I will give you the Sign of the Throne.’

“With a flick of her wrist, she signaled for one of her daughters to bring the sigil of the Solas Beir. The siren disappeared briefly and returned, solemnly carrying a small wooden box, ornately carved with symbols of the kingdom.

“Cael thanked her and opened the box. Inside he found two halves of a silver nautilus shell, joined by a seam of silvery blue light. With great respect, Cael closed the lid and thanked the Western Oracle.

“She smiled sweetly. ‘And now, my love, let me offer you a token of my affection, a blessing for your journey home.’ She beckoned for him to come forward, cupping something small and round in her hands. When he drew close, she held up a tiny silver hand mirror. ‘Do you know what this is?’
she asked.

“Cael shook his head. Gazing into her eyes, he felt a strange sense of vertigo—he could feel his will slipping away.

‘This, sweet child, is a powerful instrument. In the right hands, it can open doors to many worlds,’ said the Western Oracle.

“Cael was fascinated by the mirror. He could feel it drawing him in, pulsing, almost as if it were alive. He let down his guard, his hand falling slack from the hilt of his sword. The Western Oracle placed the mirror in his hand and smiled. She leaned forward to kiss his lips, and his eyes closed.

“There was a sickening rip, and Cael came to his senses. Before his eyes, he saw a line of blood part the Western Oracle from the crown of her head to the hem of her flowing robe. Her female form deflated like a fleshy rag doll, each half limp and cast to the side, as a huge pair of hideous lips parted. Row upon row of teeth were revealed, curved like cutlasses toward the throat, preventing escape for any man unfortunate enough to be prey. The entire island shook as the mountainous frogfish rose up, a giant pair of yellow eyes glowing like lanterns as they opened in the rocky hillside on which the temple was built. Cael recoiled in horror, rapidly backing away.

“The Western Oracle laughed mockingly, her voice still musically sweet. ‘You do not like my lady puppet?’ she asked.

“A lure,
he thought, his mind reeling madly.
It was a LURE.

“The beast’s grin widened. She cackled, a slushing, throaty sound that threatened Cael’s sanity. ‘I use my lady puppet to catch lovers! COME TO ME, LOVERBOY!’

“The beast’s mouth opened impossibly wide. On the wet, fleshy inside of the mouth, Cael saw the remains of her former lovers—heads with blind eyes, gaping, hungry mouths, and reaching arms sprouting from bony shoulders, dissolving flesh stripped and hanging. Each man was planted on the inside of the monster’s mouth like a crop in the ground, his rib cage and lower half absorbed by the beast. Not quite alive and not quite dead, the creature’s lovers moaned in agony and thirst.

“Cael’s hand flashed to his sword. Behind him, he hear
d the sickening crunch of bones as the beast’s daughters crushed each of his remaining soldiers, ripping out their throats before there was time to scream. Cael tried to block out the slurping sounds of their feeding. There wasn’t much time before they came for him, bearing him up to the beast like a murderous gift. He had one chance for escape and one chance only. He drew his silver sword and launched it deep into the beast’s throat. She gagged, choking on the poison weapon.

“Then, while she was occupied and the sirens were still feeding, he scooped up the Sign of the Throne, the diadem, and the hand mirror into the strongbox. Carrying the box under one arm, he ran swiftly down what was left of the beach, hiding his steps in the surf.

“Once the sirens had fed, he knew they would come for him. They would search the ship first. It would never sail again, but it was defensible.

“A reasonable man would barricade himself in the ship, creating a bottleneck, so that when they come, he could pick them off one by one until they finally overpowered him
, he thought. But Cael was not a reasonable man.
I will not give them the pleasure of killing me in my own cursed boat
, he vowed.

“Instead, he crept along the shore silently, until he was behind the enormous beast. With a final, pathetic gag, the Oracle stopped shaking, and the island was still. In death, her body swelled like a bladder, the wound from the sword releasing toxic, flammable gases within her.

“Cael pulled the small leather satchel from around his neck. Inside was the Northern Oracle’s potent fire powder, wrapped within a woven cloth. With his silver dagger, he made a small slit in the beast’s side and poured in the powder. He stuffed the cloth in the tiny wound, sealing it, and created a spark with a bit of flint, lighting the makeshift wick. Then, holding the strongbox against his chest, he dove into the sea and swam for his life.