* * *
The brightness of the Royal Hall bombarded Clayton—it felt like piercing shards of glass were being jammed into his eye sockets. He blinked and squinted; his vision was, annoyingly, blurred by tears. Quickly rubbing his eyes with his right hand, he willed his senses under control.
This cannot go badly, he thought, taking deep breaths.
After momentarily standing by the large marble doors through which he’d previously entered, dabbing at his eyes, willing his senses, Clayton was satisfied enough to carry on. He stepped into the hall—and suddenly his efforts of control were washed away as a wave of anger completely overcame him. He stumbled back against the doors, shut his eyes, and shook his head as if doing so would somehow fling the emotion away.
A movement nearby made him open his eyes.
A man radiating a calming presence was standing before him.
Clayton sighed, relieved.
“The King and Queen are waiting for you,” the man said loudly. Then, in a quieter tone, he asked, “Are you sure you can do this?”
Clayton nodded and subtly shook himself while he constructed a brick wall in his mind to block out the emotions of mortals. He smiled at the eyes of concern looking upon him when he had finished. “Calith, my friend, I am fine.”
Calith shook his head in concern. “It seems you are not,” he replied, sadly.
Clayton started walking as Calith urged him forward. He could see the King and Queen on the other side of the long hall, sitting on their thrones, talking quietly to each other.
“It is getting worse, is it not?”
Clayton looked at Calith. His dark brown eyes stared at the floor as he walked. His brown hair, untied and hanging around his shoulders, looked un-brushed and messy. His skin had patches of dirt on it, and the clothes he wore—a thin cotton shirt and breeches—looked untidy, dirty.
“They got you to look for him,” Clayton noted, rather than asked.
“They did, but I could not find him, even in my other form. The man must be using magic to keep himself hidden from sight and senses.”
Clayton nodded. “The man uses magic for everything.”
“Indeed. That was why I never trusted him.”
Clayton pulled his black velvet cloak tighter around him—a nervous habit. “But that is not the only reason I was called here,” he said.
Calith sighed. “True. The King and Queen do not think you have been doing your job as Captain.”
“Ah. So, let me guess: they called me here to tell me to sort myself out or else?”
Calith nodded. “They do not believe your . . . condition is an excuse to ignore your duties.”
“My condition?” He means my going insane.
“Just do as they ask, Clayton, and listen carefully to what they have to say. Something else has happened that might relate to the wizard’s disappearance.”
The long walk down the hall was coming to an end, and both Clayton and Calith kept silent to avoid being overheard by the human King and Queen. The enormous hall felt empty. The ceiling felt too high, the arch-shaped windows too big, and the stone walls too cold. With only the thrones to fill out the entire hall, the place was unwelcoming and hollow. Clayton didn’t like it. Nor did Calith.
They stopped just below three shallow steps that led to the thrones. As Clayton got down on one knee, he tried hard to reinforce the solid brick wall in his mind.
“Clayton, how kind of you to join us,” King Eomadas said, his anger spilling through his teeth and radiating from his entire frame.
Clayton rose slowly and tried to stay silent. The King, tall and lanky, with cropped red hair, seemed weak and unworthy of leadership of any kind. He carried the title of King simply because he’d inherited it. Human Kingdoms worked that way: inheritance over skill, greed over need.
“My King, I do apologise for my absence,” Clayton said.
“Well, that makes everything better!” the King spat. He got up off of his throne and came closer to Clayton, stepping down two of the small steps and standing on the first. The brown animal fur cloak he wore was tied at the neck around his front, covering his top half, and the dark velvet trousers he wore were tailored and of the highest quality.
Clayton didn’t look the King in the eye, but kept his gaze aimed at the floor. Dominance was such an important thing in the Kingdom. You had to know your place and respect those who were superior to you. Clayton, being the Captain of the Guards, had many people who were superior to him, and only a few who were inferior, such as peasants, commoners, and his guardsmen. This didn’t bother him, though, as all human Kingdoms worked that way, even though the people at the top of the hierarchy were not always worthy.
“Tell us, what is the reason for your many absences?” Queen Thiana asked, her tone soft and not at all like her husband’s.
“And ignorance!” the King shouted.
Clayton’s hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His nails started digging painfully into his palms. He controlled his anger by concentrating on the pain. If he didn’t, the King would surely not be standing in front of him; he’d be lying on the floor, crying in pain.
“Clayton, we know it has something to do with your health,” the Queen said. “But we heard no word from you. You ignored the people that came to your door, and you did not even try to contact the healer.” The Queen looked innocent and petit sitting on her large silver throne. The jewels that were embedded into it gleamed in the light and made her look like a goddess.
Clayton relaxed somewhat and answered her, ignoring the King. “Yes, it is my health. The past week I have not been able to get out of my bed, so I could not answer to anyone or contact you, my Queen.” He couldn’t help but look into her blue eyes as they stared back at him. Unlike her King, she was understanding, kind—the qualities a true Queen. She was one of many things Eomadas didn’t deserve.
A memory crawled its way into Clayton’s mind, a memory he would never forget, even if it was probably best that he did . . .
The snow-covered grass crunched under his boots and the cold, bitter air tried its best to seep through the barrier of his thick woolen coat. He breathed in and out and watched his misty breath in the air. Such cold times made him think of his childhood, when the snow turned the water to ice. He would sit before the blazing fire while his parents served patrons and laughed at the silly drinking games that were being played. He missed the cosy warm tavern. But most of all he missed his parents, who would make him smile, make him happy. Their memory often clouded over him, making him unaware of reality. Knowing this, he cleared his mind and the clouds slowly faded away, making him look around at his surroundings. He’d stopped walking moments before, which left him standing a few steps away from the ice-covered pond. He looked at the glistening blanket of frozen water as the silence registered in his mind. Usually the gardens were full of people taking delight in the beauty of the lush green works of nature, but when the snowflakes fell and the air became not so generous, people tended to avoid the outside. Clayton took this for granted and made sure he enjoyed the deserted outdoors as much as he could.
He walked around the large pond until he reached the wooden bench that looked out over the water. As he sat, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness, a sadness that had been with him for some time. It was almost a part of him, and because of this, he couldn’t remember what it was like without it inside him, eating at his soul.
Even though cold crept over his body, he didn’t pull the coat tighter, but looked at the flowers that were around him. Red lupas and morrows slightly swayed back and forth in the breeze, dropping clumps of snow silently onto the ground. Their usual bright colours dulled in the cold days, apparently making them less appealing to look at according to some women, but Clayton still noticed their beauty.
“You seem so lost in thought,” came a soft, feminine voice.
Clayton couldn’t help but jump at the sudden interruption. He looked around and saw an unfamiliar woman standing dire
ctly behind him. She wore a blue gown that had a fitted laced bodice. At the waist, the gown flowed out in a thick layered skirt. Her arms were bare, and the bodice was low cut and showed the tops of her breasts. Her skin was pale and seemed almost flawless. Her blond hair was tied back, but several strands hung loose in the breeze. She had an obvious beauty that left Clayton staring at her. As he looked into her eyes, he saw a sadness there much like his own.
“You are cold,” he said, noticing her shaky breath.
She nodded and smiled—but it was a smile that made her look older than her years. “I had to get away,” she replied, pointing to the castle behind her.
Clayton wondered who she was. He hadn’t seen her before, he was sure. But, then, he’d never really been in the castle, so he didn’t know many of the people who lived there. She could be a noble of some sort, or maybe one of the servants, but she didn’t exactly look like a servant. Another thought crossed his mind, which made him wince. Surely, a lady like her couldn’t be one of the Kings whores.
“There you go again,” she smiled. “What are you thinking about?”
Clayton shrugged and turned around, putting his back to her.
He heard soft footsteps as she walked over to him, slowly, and sat down beside him. Clayton inhaled, taking in her sweet fragrance.
“I like the castle,” she told him. “I like the Kingdom and its people. The only thing I do not like is the King.”
Not surprising, Clayton thought. Nobody liked the King, as he was simply an impossible man to like.
“But perhaps over time I will come to like him, even love him,” she continued.
Clayton froze, and not due to the cold, as realisation hit. He turned his head and looked at her. Her blue eyes looked back at him, but the look she gave him wasn’t at all what was expected from such royalty.
Clayton suddenly dropped off the bench and bowed before her on one knee. His head down, he kept his eyes on the ground. Moisture started to drench his breeches and the bare skin of his knee, but he didn’t care.
A small, soft hand lifted his chin. He closed his eyes and didn’t dare look at her beauty. He’d treated the new Queen wrongly, which could mean severe punishment, even death.
“Please . . .”
The one word from her made him open his eyes. Her hand was still under his chin, and she was leaning toward him.
“I need a friend, not a servant,” she said, softly.
“What do you think is wrong with you?” Thiana asked, holding eye contact and bringing Clayton back to reality. Clayton slid his gaze down to her small perfect lips as she spoke. “It may be best for you to see the healer.”
Clayton tore his gaze from the Queen as the King stepped down off the last step and stood inches away from Clayton’s face. His eyes were full of anger, probably even hate. Clayton knew this not by looking at him, but by feeling his stare as it bore into his face.
“What were you looking at?” the King whispered.
Clayton didn’t say anything, but rather bit his tongue. The sweet taste of blood soon followed, but Clayton ignored it.
“Eomadas, please. We do not have time for such foolishness.”
Eomadas looked back at his Queen, and after a moment he nodded. “Fine,” he said, going back up the steps and sitting on his throne. “I will attend this . . . matter after our more pressing issues have been dealt with.”
Thiana looked at her husband and shook her head slightly. An expression of disgust passed over her lovely features, then was gone. Her pretty, round face didn’t suit any such looks, but she gave them often enough, and Clayton wasn’t surprised.
“Clayton,” she began, “just after sunrise we were alerted to something horrid that had happened on Palensia’s main road.” She stopped and once again looked at Eomadas, who watched Clayton like a predator.
He really does not like me, Clayton thought while waiting for the Queen to continue.
“One of our traders was found. Or shall I say, the remains of one of our traders.”
Clayton’s expression took on a look of concern. “What?”
“There seems to have been a savage attack,” King Eomadas announced.
Clayton looked at Calith, who was standing quietly beside him. He looked unsettled and almost uncomfortable, as if the animal inside him wanted to claw its way out.
“And you do not know who did this?” Clayton was surprised. Surely they had to know who attacked and killed the trader. Calith was the best tracker in the Kingdom, especially in his animal form.
Calith shook his head slowly. “There was no scent.”
Clayton stared at the floor, confused. As his mind started thinking of the enemies that could have done it, the wall in his mind started to shake. Emotions tried to get through, tried to fight their way in. He had to clear his thoughts and make sure the wall stayed up strong—but he had to do it elsewhere, away from humans.
“His Highness thinks this may have something to do with the wizard disappearing,” Calith said.
Queen Thiana slowly and elegantly rose from her throne. She wore a dark red gown that clung tightly to her upper body and then flowed out at her hips. Her slim, small body gave off heat that washed over Clayton. “We need you, Clayton,” she said as she stepped toward the three steps. “We need you to help find the wizard and find the beasts that killed the trader. We cannot risk this happening again. No more innocent lives should be lost.”
Clayton nodded and was about to step closer to her, but stopped. “I will, my lady.”
The King leaned forward in his throne, his arms peeking out through his cloak and resting on his knees, and pinned his eyes on Clayton’s. “You are dismissed.”
Clayton bowed, then turned and left.
Calith followed close behind.
* * *
“Nothing,” Clayton whispered to himself as he scanned the grass below him. “Nothing at all.”
“I did tell you, old friend. There are no signs of any strange occurrences.”
Clayton and Calith stood in the vast, open land outside the City. The main road lay half a league away, bustling with carriages and wagons. After a few hours of thorough searching, the two men had found absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.
“Tell me again what was found,” Clayton ordered, rather annoyed with the whole situation.
“The remains of a trader and his horse. It looked like they were eaten by animals. We believe it was a Mister Calium Beadson who travels here every year. His wagon was also destroyed, but all the goods within were accounted for.” Calith had a habit of lifting his chin and sniffing the air regularly, which he did at that moment, and it made him look quite crazy. It was merely one of his many canine characteristics that Clayton found immensely helpful.
“I want a group of guards out patrolling when dark falls,” Clayton said. “It cannot happen again.”
“And the wizard?” Calith asked.
“I will search the city for him. I will get answers, one way or the other.”
* * *
The tall wizard’s tower stood proudly inside the city. With creeping jeesies hugging its stone walls and a pointed spire roof that rose high into the clouds, it was truly magnificent.
Deep under the tower, candles dimly lit a hidden room, where an old withered man sat bound to a chair. He wore a white robe that hung on his frail body. His long grey hair sat matted around his wrinkled face. Before him stood a woman with stark white hair that flowed down past her curved hips. Her attire was that of a brothel whore; too much skin on view to be considered lady-like. Resting in her cupped hands was a large egg that glowed from the inside.
“They will come and burn this pathetic city to the ground,” the woman hissed.
The old man’s eyes were wide with horror, his bushy eyebrows high. “Why are you doing this?”
“I have my reasons. With my army keeping the guards busy, they will be too distracted to give you a thought.” The woman smiled, then, a look of pure malice.
The old man could have wept. Being without his staff, he was powerless. It sat only feet away on the dirty floor, its blue crystals shimmering as if taunting him.
“It was most simple,” the woman continued. “Steal the egg, bring it here. Now I merely have to wait until they come to retrieve what is theirs.”
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